s^^BSt 


:iU3r:v. 


COL.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  FLOWERS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM.  N.  C. 


PRESENTED  BY 

W.  W.  FLOWERS 


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in  2010  witii  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


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BROWN  ATs'D  ARTHUR 


EPISODE 


mm  |3roiun'fi  ,^c|ool  ^'^^," 


Once  to  every  man  and  nation,  cornea  the  moment  to  decide, 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or  evil  side  ; 
Then  it  is  the  brave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside, 
Doubting  iu  his  abject  spirit  ;  till  his  Lord  is  crucified. ■" 


ARRANGED   FOR   THE   PRESS 
BY   A   MOTHER. 


RICHMOND: 
18G1. 


V* 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1861,  by 

WEST    &    JOHNSTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and 

for  the  District  of  Virginia. 


PEEFACE 


The  best  and  most  useful  years  of  my  life  have 
been  employed  in  teaching  the  young — in  an  effort 
totrain  my  young  country  women  to  proper  intellec- 
tual self-culture,  and  to  lead  them  in  the  paths  of 
truth  and  right ;  in  short,  to  follow  out  the  teachings 
and  follow  up  the  wishes  of  anxious,  tender,  pious 
parents,  who,  for  the  sake  of  literary  advantages,  had 
consented  to  the  temporary  removal  of  their  children 
from  the  sacred  sanctuary  of  home.  My  pupils  are 
scattered  all  over  our  broad  and  beautiful  State,  and 
that  of  our  sister  and  neighbor.  North  Carolina. 
Some  dwell  in  the  far  South,  some  in  the  far  West, 
and  a  few  are  doing  their  work  in  northern  homes, 
and  fewer  still  abroad  in  our  mother-land ;  and  it 
gladdens  my  heart  to  know,  that  as  the  shadows 
lengthen  in  my  own  descent  to  the  grave,  their  rising 
and  meridian  sun  shines  upon  good  christian  daugh- 
ters, sisters,  wives,  and  mothers,  who  are  doing  the 
work  of  life  well  and  truly,  and  training  others  for 
an  inheritance  beyond  the  skies.  I  never  cease  to 
pray  for  them  and  tenderly  to  look  after  them,  and 
among  the  rewards   of  my  laborious  work  is  the 

3 


IV  PREFACE. 

recollection  of  tlieirloviug  loyalty,  and  the  reversion 
of  aflfectionate  regard  which  these  young  people  most 
kindly  and  cordially  exhibit.  Though  separated  by 
sundering  paths  we  sometimes  meet ;  and  when  that 
is  not  allowed,  I  comfort  myself  with  the  aspiration  : 

*'  Daughters  and  pupils  may  we  meet 
Where  knowledge  has  its  joy  complete, 
And  love  no  parting  knows." 

Though  no  longer  actively  engaged  in  the  work  of 
education  I  cannot  lose  my  interest  in  the  mental  and 
spiritual  welfare  of  the  young  of  our  country  ;  and, 
with  the  hope  of  benefitting  them  and  of  keeping 
the  links  of  association  bright,  I  have  sought  to 
arrange  this  little  volume.  It  is  compiled  from  a 
work  referring  immediately  to  the  school  life  of 
hoys,  but  containing  so  much  of  general  application, 
that  I  am  sure  no  parent  or  child,  no  teacher  or 
pupil,  can  read  it  without  having  every  good  motive 
quickened  and  every  high  principle  strengthened.  I 
have  introduced  some  of  the  prayers  of  Dr.  Arnold, 
prepared  for  special  occasions  and  under  the  peculiar 
circumstances  that  arise  in  life  at  school ;  and  to  this 
preface  I  have  subjoined  a  short  prayer  from  my  own 
little  collection,  with  the  hope  that  it  may  assist  some 
youthful  teacher  in  her  office  of  devotion,  and  perhaps 
remind  some  of  those  who  once  dwelt  with  me  "  as 
children"  of  those  morning  hours,  when,  for  years, 
we  knelt  together  and  made  the  "  offering  to  the 
Lord"  the  first  business  of  every  day. 


PREFACE.  V 

With  the  hope  that  the  continued  blessing  of  our 
Heavenly  Father  may  rest  upon  my  pupils,  this  little 
Tolume  is  dedicated  to  their  children  by  their  Mo- 
thers' Teacher. 

ANNA  MEAD  CHALMERS. 


Festival  of  All  Saints,  1860. 


:^52'i74 


MOKNING  PRAYER  FOR  A  FEMALE 
SCHOOL. 


O  thou  gi-eat  and  glorious  God,  who  makest  the  out- 
goings of  the  morning  and  evening  to  praise  thee,  we,  thy 
helpless  children,  would  acknowledge  thy  goodness  in  per- 
mitting us  to  behold  the  light  of  another  day.  We  have 
•  laid  ourselves  down  in  peace  and  slept,  and  have  awaked, 
for  thou  hast  sustained  us  ;  and  now,  O  Lord,  with  grate- 
ful hearts, we  kneel  before  thee  to  ask  for  thy  continued 
protection  and  to  implore  from  thee  that  grace  which  can 
alone  enable  us  to  spend  this  day  in  safety  and  peace, 
The  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  ahke  to  thee.  Thou 
art  about  our  beds  by  night  and  our  paths  by  day,  and 
spiest  out  all  our  ways,  and  there  is  not  a  word  of  our 
mouths,  but  thou,  O  Lord,  knowest  it  altogether.  May 
this  solemn  thought  so  affect  om*  motives  and  actions, 
that  they  may  be  always  acceptable  in  thy  sight. 

We  are  collected  together  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
instruction,  and  are  now  about  to  commence  another  term 
of  duty.  We  feel  om'  own  weakness,  and  pray  for  the 
aid  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  may  be  guided  and  blessed 
in  all  we  undertake.  Make  us  diligent  in  our  studies, 
respectful  and  attentive  to  our  teachers,  and  gentle  and 
affectionate  to  each  other.  May  we  live  together  as  a  band 
of  sisters,  and  be  kindly  affectioned  one  toward  another 
Let  all  anger,  evil  speaking  and  impatience  be  far  from 
the  hearts  of  each  one  of  us,  and  the  same  mind  dwell  in 
us  that  was  also  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

T 


Vlll      MORNING   PRAYER   FOR  A  FEMALE   SCHOOL. 

Suffer  US  not  to  forget,  O  Lord,  that  it  is  a  part  of  our 
duty  to  thee,  faithfully  to  improve  our  time  and  present 
privileges,  and  while  we  are  pursuing  our  daily  studies, 
may  we  be  led  to  seek  that  knowledge  which  causeth  not 
to  err  and  will  make  us  wise  to  salvation.  May  we  set 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  always  before  us  as  our  great  Master 
and  Teacher,  and  so  learn  of  him  that  we  may  at  length 
be  found  among  his  redeemed  children  on  high. 

Most  gracious  God  grant  that  thy  blessing  may  rest 
upon  this  school — make  it  a  nursery  of  virtue,  of  know- 
ledge and  holiness — may  a  sense  of  thy  continual  presence 
check  every  unholy  feeling  and  calm  every  unruly  temper. 
Oh  may  each  of  these  beloved  children  "  seek  thee  early," 
and  according  to  thy  gracious  promise  find  thee  a  good  and 
gracious  God — a  God  of  love  and  truth.  Sanctify  the  instruc- 
tions they  receive,  and  guide  their  3'oung  hearts  to  thee, 
the  great  fountain  of  light  and  knowledge.  May  their 
bodies  and  souls  be  precious  in  thy  sight.  If  it  seemeth 
good  unto  thee,  preserve  them  from  sickness ;  but  may 
they  always  remember  that  they  are  not  too  young  to  die, 
and  that  one  day  in  thy  sight  is  as  a  thousand  j^ears,  and 
a  thousand  years  as  one  day. 

Let  thy  heavenly  blessing  rest  upon  the  teachers  of  this 
school  and  upon  those  who  preside  in  this  household, 
May  a  sense  of  their  responsible  trust  keep  them  close  to 
thee,  their  only  safe  counsellor.  Give  them  a  right  judg- 
ment in  all  things — wisdom  from  on  high  to  guide,  and 
grace  from  on  high  to  strengthen.  While  training  the 
minds  of  these  young  persons  in  the  way  of  knowledge 
and  usefulness,  may  they  never  forget  the  priceless  value 
of  their  immortal  souls — for  each  of  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  died — and  may  the  sanctifying  intluences  of  thy 
Iloly  Spirit  accompany  all  their  teachings. 


MORNING   PRATER   FOR  A  FEMALE    SCHOOL.         ix 

We  now  commit  ourselves,  O  Lord,  to  thee.  Make  us 
a  happy  and  loving  family  ;  bless  our  absent  parents  and 
friends,  and  take  us  all  this  day  and  forever  under  the 
shadow  of  thy  Fatherly  wings. 

We  ask  for  these  and  all  other  blessings  in  the  name  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Chi-ist,     ^men. 


INTEODUCTION. 


It  was  recently  said  by  Lord  Brougham,  that  no 
book  published  in  England  for  the  last  fifty  years 
had  done  more  good  than  "Tom  Brown's  School 
Days,"  and  a  good  and  gifted  clergyman  of  our  own 
American  Church,  has  pronounced  it  a  most  able 
auxiliary  in  the  religious  education  of  the  young. 
Its  interest  and  influence  cannot  be  attributed  to  the 
narrative — for  that  is  so  slight  as  hardly  to  form  a 
story — being  nothing  more  than  a  series  of  pictures 
of  the  various  parts  of  a  school  boy's  life.  There 
must  be  something  under  this  to  give  value  to  the 
volume;  and  it  is  found  in  the  impress  it  bears  of  the 
spirit  and  teaching  of  the  noble  Dr.  Arnold. 

We  find  here  illustrated  in  the  every  day  incidents 
of  school  life,  the  principle  which  this  great  teacher 
so  thoroughly  possessed  himself,  and  with  which  he 
so  successfully  inspired  his  pupils,  that  there  was  a 
work — an  individual  work  for  each  to  do  in  this 
world  ;  and  that  the  only  real  happiness  was  to  be 
found  in  doing  that  work  truly  and  faithfully.  To 
how  many  did  he  thus  unfold  a  new  life,  causing  a 
strange  joy  to  come  over  the  weakest  as  well  as 
strongest  at  discovering  that  he  had  the  means  of 


XU  INTRODUCTION. 

being  useful.  His  pupils  felt  a  sympathetic  thrill, 
caught  from  a  master  who  was  himself  earnestly  at 
work  in  the  world,  and  whose  work  was  heartily  and 
cheerfully  sustained  and  constantly  carried  forward 
in  the  fear  of  God. 

With  this  effort  to  encourage  individual  obligation 
and  responsibility  was  another,  which  in  Dr.  Arnold's 
system  was  only  subordinate  to  the  first,  as  an  evil 
to  be  corrected  rather  than  a  duty  enforced.  It  was 
the  subjugation  of  that  slavish  submission  to  the 
opinion  and  habits  ef  eacj^othcr,  which  he  considered 
the  crowning  evil  of  public  school  education.  No 
half  year  passed  without  his  preaching  upon  it ;  he 
turned  it  over  and  over  in  every  possible  point  of 
view  ;  he  dwelt  upon  it  as  the  one  master  fault  of 
all,  and  solemnly  and  earnestly  did  he  reiterate  and 
enjoin  the  words  of  the  prophet, 

"Fear  not,  nor  heed  one  another's  voices, 
But  fear  and  heed  the  voice  of  God  only." 

These  two  features  in  the  system  of  Dr.  Arnold  are 
most  strikingly  illustrated  in  "  Tom  Brown's  School 
Days,"  that  story  of  Rugby  experience,  which  an 
'^  old  boy"  has  told  with  so  much  truth  and  humor 
and  fond  minuteness  of  detail.  The  book  has  passed 
through  numerous  editions,  and  it  may  seem  a  need- 
less and  bold  step  to  touch  or  mutilate  it.  But  it 
is  our  high  value  of  its  teachings  that  leads  us  to 
make  this  compilation.     We  believe   that  a  more 


INTRODUCTION".  Xlll 

touching  and  inspiring  sketch  of  truth  and  manly- 
piety  in  a  boy  was  never  written,  than  that  of  George 
Arthur,  found  near  the  close  of  this  volume,  and 
we  want  to  bring  that  sketch  into  the  hands  of  every 
boy  and  girl  in  our  land  ;  to  give  it  a  niche  in  every 
Sunday-school  library,  and  thus  to  show  how,  even 
in  the  secular  school  room,  the  grace  and  beauty  of 
early  piety  can  transform  and  elevate  the  rude  and 
selfish. 

Excellent  and  amusing  as  it  all  is,  there  is  much 
in  "  Tom  Brown"  that  is  inapplicable  to  our  American 
school  life  and  system,  (I  wish,  indeed,  that  it  were 
not  so,  and  that  our  boys  had  their  cricket  matches 
and  boxing  clubs),  and  we  have,  therefore,  with  the 
permission  of  the  publishers,  selected  an  episode, 
"  the  turning  point  of  the  hero's  life,"  in  which  the 
true  spirit  of  the  discipline  of  Dr.  Arnold  is  most 
fully  and  happily  illustrated.  This  is  the  nucleus  of 
our  little  book,  but  we  have  gone  hack  to  Stanley's 
Life  of  Arnold,  and  forward  to  "  Tom  Brown  at 
Oxford,"  gleaning  from  each  such  incidents  and  recol- 
lections as  fully  illustrated  the  same  ruling  principle 
of  disinterested  effort  for  the  welfare  of  the  young, 
based  upon  a  constant  sense  of  their  responsibility 
to  God  in  the  performance  of  every  duty,  the  enjoy- 
ment of  every  pleasure.  In  short,  striving  to  show 
that  it  was  possible  to  ©bey  literally  the  apostolic 
injunction,  "  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink^  or  whatever 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

ye  do,  do  all  in  tlio  name  of  Jesns  Clirist,"  so  that, 
not  only  the  church,  but  the  school-room,  the  study, 
and  the  playground,  would  be  made  scenes  of  healthy 
christian  feeling  and  activity. 

We  will  now  give  a  slight  sketch  of  Tom  Brown's 
earhj  days  at  Rugby,  that  the  portion  of  the  volume 
extracted  may  be  more  fully  understood.  His  expe- 
riences are  like  those  of  others  at  an  English  public 
school.  Though  in  the  main  a  true,  brave  boy,  he 
is  easily  led  off  by  unwise  companions ;  makes  war 
upon  school  regulations;  gets  flogged  for  trespassing; 
reported  for  scrambling  on  the  roof  of  the  tower  and 
there  scratching  his  name  on  the  minute  hand  of  the 
clock  ;  punished  for  going  to  Kugby  Fair,  and  other- 
wise subjected  to  the  penalties  "  made  and  provided" 
for  various  treasons,  felonies,  and  misdemeanors. 
Dr.  Arnold  was  a  silent  observer  of  his  course.  He 
saw  that  there  was  talent  and  truth  and  right  feeling 
at  the  bottom,  though  as  the  old  verger  said, ''  Brown 
was  mighty  bad  on  top,''^  and  the  Dr.'s  peculiar  dis- 
cipline is  now  brought  upon  the  stage.  Henry 
East,  the  fidus  achates  of  the  hero,  is  a  boy  of  simi- 
lar temper  and  feeling,  and.  being  an  older  Rugbean 
has  taken  him  by  the  hand,  and  together,  they  were 
getting  into  "  all  sorts  of  scrapes."  Active,  earnest, 
mercurial  boys,  who  would  never  make  the  regular 
school  work  their  first  business.  So  the  Doctor 
resolved  to  give  Brown,  in  particular,  some  object 


INTEODUCTION.  Xr 

besides  games  and  mischief  to  expend  his  surplus 
energy  upon.  At  the  end  of  the  second  half-year, 
when  the  new  boys  came,  the  Dr.  without  assigning 
any  reason,  arranged  that  Brown  and  East  should 
be  separated,  and  that  George  Arthur,  a  quiet,  re- 
fined, timid  boy,  with  a  delicate  body  and  strong 
principles,'^should  be  assigned  to  Tom  as  a  chum. 
His  hope  was,  that  having  some  one  to  lean  upon 
him,  Tom  would  stand  straight  himself,  and  gradu- 
ally attain  moral  thoughtfulness  and  strength.  The 
story,  as  we  now  take  it  up,  will  show  the  success  of 
the  experiment.  The  mutual  influence  of  boys  of 
such  difi'erent  characters  is  strikingly  shown,  by  the 
wisdom  and  sagacity  of  Dr.  Arnold.  The  advantage 
is  reciprocal.  Arthur  reclaims  Tom,  who,  in  his  turn 
wins  Arthur  by  degrees  from  physical  timidity,  and 
initiates  him  into  the  athletics  of  the  place. 

We  insert,  in  continuation,  the  closing  pages  of 
the  book,  with  some  notices  from  Stanley  of  the  death 
of  Dr.  Arnold.  Nothing  can  be  more  touching,  and 
at  the  same  cime  more  manly,  than  the  grief  with 
which  Brown  receives  the  sad  news  ;  the  rush  and 
conflict  of  feeling  ;  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  one  so 
deeply  loved  and  reverenced  ;  regret  at  the  retrospect 
of  his  own  careless  boyhood,  which,  in  the  solemn 
light  of  that  hour, 

"Stamps  with  remorse  each  waited  hour  of  time, 
And  darkens  each  young  folly  into  crime." 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

the  burst  of  grateful  love  that  the  memory  of  his  old 
master  excites,  are  all  told  with  a  simplicity,  truth, 
and  manly  piety,  which  must-fiad  its  way  to  every 
feeling  heart. 

That  this  "■  Episode,"  in  which  the  religious  cha- 
racter of  the  youthful  Arthur  is  so  happily  delineated, 
may  lead  other  school  boys  to  "go  and  do  likewise," 
is  the  sincere  wish  of  the  "  Mother"  who  arranged 
these  pages. 

Virginia,  Festival  of  All  Saints,   18 GO. 


BSOWIT    IND    ISTHUR: 


CHAPTER  I.  ^ 

HOW  THE   TIDE  TURNED. 

"  Once  to  every  man  and  nation,  comes  the  moment  to  decide 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or  eril  side; 

*  *  *  »  *  * 

Then  it  is  the  bi*ave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside. 
Doubting  in  his  abject  spirit,  till  his  Lord  is  crucified." 


Lowell. 


The  turning  point  in  Tom  Brown's  school 
career  had  now  come,  and  tlie  manner  of  it  was 
as  follows.  On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  the 
next  half-year,  Tom,  East,  and  another  school- 
house  boy,  who  had  just  been  dropped  at  the 
Spread  Eagle  by  the  old  Regulator,  rushed  into 
the  matron's  room  in  high  spirits,  such  as  all 
real  boys  are  in  when  they  first  get  back,  how- 
ever fond  they  may  be  of  home. 

''Well,  Mrs.  Wixie,"  shouted  one,  seizing 
on  the  methodical,  active  little  dark-eyed  woman, 
who  was  busy  stowing  away  the  linen  of  the 
a2  n 


18  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

boys  who  had  already  arrived  in  their  several 
pigeon-holes,  ''  here  we  are  again  you  see,  jolly 
as  ever.     Let  us  help  you  put  the  things  away." 

"And,  Mary,"  cried  another,  (she  was  called 
indifferently  by  either  name,)  '%ho's  come  back  ? 
Has  the  Doctor  made  old  Jones  leave  ?  How 
many  new  boys  are  there  ?  " 

"  Am  I  and  East  to  have  Gray's  study  ?  You 
know  you  promised  to  get  it  for  us  if  you 
could,"  shouted  Tom. 

"And  am  I  to  sleep  m  No.  4?"  roared  East. 

"How's  old  Sam,  and  Bogle,  and  Sally?" 

"Bless  the  boys,"  cries  Mary,  at  last  getting 
in  a  word,  "why  you'll  shake  me  to  death. 
There,  now,  do  go  away  up  to  the  housekeeper's 
room  and  get  your  suppers ;  you  know  I  haven't 
time  to  talk — you'll  find  plenty  more  in  the 
house.  Now,  Master  East,  do  let  those  things 
alone — you're  mixing  up  three  ne\\i  boys' 
things."  And  she  rushed  at  East,  who  escaped 
round  the  open  trunks  holding  up  a  prize. 

*'  Hullo,  look  here,  Tommy,"  shouted  he, 
"here's  fun!"  and  he  brandished  above  his 
head  some  pretty  little  night-caps,  beautifully 
made  and  marked,  the  work  of  loving  fingers 
in  some  distant  country  home.     The  kind  mo- 


BROWN   AND    ARTHUR.  19 

ther  and  sisters,  wlio  sewed  that  delicate  stitcliing 
with  aching  hearts,  little  thought  of  the  trouble 
they  might  be  bringing  on  the  young  head  for 
which  they  were  meant.  The  little  matron  was 
wiser,  and  snatched  the  caps  from  East  before 
he  could  look  at  the  name  on  them. 

''Now,  Master  East,  I  shall  be  very  angry  if 
you  don't  go,"  said  she;  "there's  some  capital 
cold  beef  and  pickles  up  stairs,  and  I  won't  have 
you  old  boys  in  my  room  first  night." 
•  "  Hurrah  for  the  pickles  !  Come  along.  Tom- 
my, come  along,  Smith.  We  shall  find  out  who 
the  young  count  is,  I'll  be  bound  ;  I  hope  he'll 
sleep  in  my  room.  Mary's  always  vicious  first 
week" 

As  the  boys  turned  to  leave  the  room,  the 
matron  touched  Tom's  arm,  and  said,  "  Master 
Brown,  please  stop  a  minute.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you." 

''Very  Avell,  Mary.  I'll  come  in  a  minute. 
East ;  don't  finish  the  pickles — " 

"Oh,  Master  Brown,"  went  on  the  little  matron 
when  the  rest  had  gone,  "  you're  to  have  Gray's 
study,  Mrs.  Arnold  says.  And  she  wants  you 
to  take  in  this  young  gentleman.  He's  a  new 
boy  and  thirteen  years  old,  though  he  don't  look 


20  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

it.  He's  very  delicate,  and  lias  never  been  from 
home  before.  And  I  told  Mrs.  Arnold  I  tbougbt 
you'd  be  kind  to  him,  and  sec  that  they  don't 
bully  him  at  first.  He's  put  into  your  form, 
and  I've  given  him  the  bed  next  to  yours  in 
K umber  4 ;  so  East  can't  sleep  there  this  half." 
Tom  was  rather  put  about  by  this  speech. 
He  had  got  the  double  study  which  he  coveted, 
but  here  were  conditions  attached  which  greatly 
moderated  his  joy.  He  looked  across  the  room, 
and  in  the  far  corner  of  the  sofa,  was  aware  of  a 
slight,  pale  boy,  with  large  blue  eyes  and  light 
fair  hair,  who  seemed  ready  to  shrink  through 
the  floor.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  little 
stranger  was  just  the  boy  whose  first  half-year 
at  a  public  school  would  be  misery  to  himself  if 
he  were  let  alone,  or  constant  anxiety  to  any 
one  who  meant  to  see  him  through  his  troubles, 
Tom  was  too  honest  to  take  in  the  youngster 
and  then  let  him  shift  for  himself;  and  if  he 
took  him  as  his  chum  instead  of  East,  where 
were  all  his  pet  plans  of  having  a  bottled-beer 
cellar  under  his  window,  and  making  night-lines 
and  slings,  and  plotting  expeditions  to  Brown- 
sover  Mills  and  Caldecott's  Spinney  ?  East  and 
he  had  made  up  their  minds  to  get  this  study, 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  21 

and  then  every  night  from  locking-iip  till  ten 
they  would  be  together,  to  talk  about  fishing, 
drink  bottled-beer,  read  Marryatt's  novels,  and 
sort  birds'  eggs.  And  this  new  boy  would  most 
likely  never  go  out  of  the  close,  and  would  be 
afraid  of  wet  feet,  and  always  getting  laughed 
at,  and  called  Molly,  or  Jenny,  or  some  deroga- 
tory feminine  nickname. 

The  matron  watched  him  for  a  moment,  and 
saw  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  so,  like 
a  wise  negotiator,  threw  in  an  appeal  to  his 
warm  heart.  '•  Poor  little  fellow,"  said  she  in 
almost  a  whisper,  ''his  father's  dead,  and  he's 
got  no  brothers.  And  his  mamma,  such  a  kind 
sweet  lady,  almost  broke  her  heart  at  leaving 
him  this  morning ;  and  she  said  one  of  his  sisters 
was  like  to  die  of  decline,  and  so — " 

"Well,  well,"  burst  in  Tom,  with  something 
like  a  sigh  at  the  effort,  "  I  suppose  I  must  give 
up  East.  Come  along,  young  'un.  What's  your 
name?  We'll  go  and  have  some  supper,  and 
then  I'll  show  you  our  study," 

"  His  name's  Greorge  Arthur,"  said  the  matron, 
walking  up  to  him  with  Tom,  who  grasped  his 
little  delicate  hand  as  the  proper  preliminary  to 
making  a  chum  of  him,  and  felt  as  if  he  could 


22  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

have  blown  liim  away.  "  I've  had  liis  books 
and  tilings  put  into  the  study,  which  his  mamma 
has  had  new  papered,  and  the  sofa  covered,  and 
new  green-baize  curtains  over  the  door,"  (the 
diplomatic  matron  threw  this  in,  to  show  that 
the  new  boy  was  contributing  largely  to  the  part- 
nership comforts.)  "  And  Mrs.  Arnold  told  me 
to  say,"  she  added,  ''  that  she  should  like  you 
both  to  come  up  to  tea  with  her.  You  know 
the  way,  Master  Brown,  and  the  things  are  just 
gone  up,  I  know."* 

^  Here  was  an  announcement  for  Master  Tom ! 
t 

■'He  w^as  to  go  up  to  tea  the  first  night,  just  as  if 
he  were  a  sixth  or  fifth-form  boy,  and  of  import- 
ance in  the  school  world,  instead  of  the  most 
reckless  scapegrace  among  the  fags.  He  felt 
himself  lifted  on  to  a  higher  moral  and  social 
platform  at  once.  Nevertheless  he  couldn't  give 
up,  without  a  sigh,  the  idea  of  the  jolly  supper 
in  the  housekeeper's  room  with  East  and  the 
rest,  and  a  rush  round  to  all  the  studies  of  his 
friends  afterwards,  to  pour  out  the  deeds  and 
wonders  of  the  holidays,  to  plot  fifty  plans  for 
the  coming  half-year,  and  to  gather  news  of  who 
had  left,  and  what  new  boys  had  come,  wdio  had 
got  who's  study,  and  where  the  new  priepostors 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  23 

slept.  However,  Tom  consoled  himself  with 
thinking  that  he  couldn't  have  done  all  this 
with  the  new  boy  at  his  heels,  and  so  marched 
off  along  the  passages  to  the  Doctor's  private 
house,  with  his  young  charge  in  tow,  in  mon- 
strous good  humour  with  himself  and  all  the 
world. 

It  is  needless,  and  would  be  impertinent  to 
tell,  how  the  two  young  boys  were  received  in 
that  drawing-room.  The  lady  who  presided 
there  is  still  living,  and  has  carried  with  her  to 
her  peaceful  home  in  the  North  the  respect  and 
love  of  all  those  who  ever  felt  and  shared  that 
gentle  and  high-bred  hospitality.  Aye,  many  is 
the  brave  heart  now  doing  its  work  and  bearing 
its  load  in  country  curacies,  London  chambers, 
under  the  Indian  sun,  and  in  Australian  towns 
and  clearings,  which  looks  back  with  fond  and 
grateful  memory  to  that  school-house  drawing- 
room,  and  dates  much  of  its  highest  and  best 
training  to  the  lessons  learnt  there. 

Besides  Mrs.  Arnold  and  one  or  two  of  the 
elder  children,  there  were  one  of  the  younger 
masters,  young  Brooke,  who  was  now  in  the 
sixth  and  had  succeeded  to  his  brother's  position 
and  influence,  and  another  sixth-form  boy  there, 


24  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

talking  together  before  tlie  fire.  The  master 
and  young  Brooke,  now  a  great  strapping  fellow 
six  leet  high,  eighteen  years  old,  and  powerful 
as  a  coal-heaver,  nodded  kindly  to  Tom  to  his 
intense  glory,  and  then  went  on  talking;  the 
other  did  not  notice  them.  The  hostess,  after  a 
few  kind  words,  w^hich  led  the  boys  at  once  and 
insensibly  to  feel  at  their  ease,  to  begin  talking 
to  one  another,  left  them  with  her  own  children 
while  she  finished  a  letter.  The  young  ones  got 
on  fast  and  well,  Tom  holding  forth  about  a 
prodigious  pony  he  had  been  riding  out  hunting, 
and  hearing  stories  of  the  winter  glories  of  the 
lakes,  when  tea  came  in,  and  immediately  after 
the  Doctor  himself. 

,  How  frank,  and  kind,  and  manly,  was  his 
greeting  to  the  party  by  the  fire  ;  it  did  Tom's 
heart  good  to  see  him  and  young  Brooke  shake 
hands,  and  look  one  another  in  the  face;  and 
he  didn't  fail  to  remark  that  Brooke  w^as  nearly 
as  tall  and  quite  as  broad  as  the  Doctor.  And 
his  cup  was  full,  when  in  another  moment  his 
master  turned  to  him  with  another  warm  shake 
of  the  hand;  and  seemingly  oblivious  of  all  the 
late  scrapes  which  he  had  been  getting  into, 
said,  "Ah,  Brown,  you  here!  I  hope  you  left 
your  father  and  all  quite  well  at  home." 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  25 

,  Yes,  sir,  quite  well." 

"  And  this  is  the  little  fellow  who  is  to  share 
your  study.  Well,  he  doesn't  look  as  we  should 
like  to  see  him.  He  wants  some  Eugby  air, 
and  cricket.  And  you  must  take  him  some 
good  long  w^alks,  to  Bilton  Grange,  and  Calde- 
cott's  Spinney,  and  show  him  what  a  pretty  little 
country  we  have  about  here." 

Tom  wondered  if  the  Doctor  knew  that  his 
visits  to  Bilton  Grange  were  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  rook's  nests  (a  proceeding  strongly  dis- 
countenanced by  the  owner  thereof),  and  those 
to  Caldecott's  Spinney,  were  prompted  chiefly  by 
the  conveniences  for  setting  night-lines.     What 
didn't  the  Doctor  know?     And  what  a  noble 
use  he  always  made  of  it.    He  almost  resolved  to 
abjure  rook-pies  and  night-lines  forever.     The 
tea  went  merrily  off,  the  Doctor  now  talking  of 
holiday  doings,  and  then  of  the  prospects  of  the 
half-year,  what  chance  there  was  for  the  Balliol 
scholarship,  whether  the  eleven  would  be  a  good 
one.     Everybody  was  at  their  ease,  and  every- 
body felt  that  he,  young  as  he  might  be,  was  of 
some  use  in  the  little  school  world,  and  had  a 
work  to  do  there. 

Soon  after  tea  the  Doctor  went  off  to  his  study, 
2b 


26  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

and  the  young  boys  a  few  minutes  afterwards 
took  tlieir  leave,  and  went  out  of  tlie  private 
door  which  led  from  the  Doctor's  house  into  the 
middle  passage. 

At  the  fire,  at  the  further  end  of  the  passage, 
was  a  crowd  of  boys  in  loud  talk  and  laughter. 
There  was  a  sudden  pause  when  the  door  opened, 
and  then  a  great  shout  of  greeting,  as  Tom  was 
recognized  marching  down  the  passage. 

''  Hullo,  Brown,  where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  Oh,  I've  been  to  tea  with  the  Doctor,"  says 
Tom,  with  great  dignity. 

''  My  eye,"  cried  East.  ''  Oh  !  so  that's  why 
Mary  called  you  back,  and  you  didn't  come  to 
supper.  You  lost  something — that  beef  and 
pickles  was  no  end  good." 

^'  I  say,  young  fellow,"  cried  Hall,  detecting 
Arthur  and  catching  him  by  the  collar,  ''  what's 
your  name  ?  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  How 
old  are  you  ?" 

Tom  saw  Arthur  shrink  back  and  look  scared, 
as  all  the  group  turned  to  him,  but  thought  it 
best  to  let  him  answer,  just  standing  by  his  side 
to  support  in  case  of  need. 

''  Arthur,  sir.     I  come  from  Devonshire." 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  27 

*'  Don't  call  me  'sir,'  you  young  muff.  How 
old  are  you  ?" 

''Thirteen." 

"  Can  you  sing  ?" 

The  poor  boy  was  trembling  and  hesitating. 
Tom  struck  in — "You  be  hanged,  Tadpole. 
He'll  have  to  sing,  whether  he  can  or  not,  Satur- 
day twelve  weeks,  and  that's  long  enough  off 
yet." 

"  Do  you  know  him  at  home,  Brown  ?" 

"No,  but  he's  my  chum  in  Gray's  old  study, 
and  it's  near  prayer  time,  and  I  haven't  had  a 
look  at  it  yet.     Come  along,  Arthur." 

Away  went  the  two,  Tom  longing  to  get  his 
charge  safe  under  cover,  where  he  might  advise 
him  on  his  deportment. 

"What  a  queer  chum  for  Tom  Brown,"  was 
the  comment  at  the  fire ;  and  it  must  be  con- 
fessed so  thought  Tom  himself,  as  he  lighted 
his  candle,  and  surveyed  the  new  green-baize 
curtains,  and  the  carpet  and  sofa  with  much 
satisfaction. 

"  I  say,  Arthur,  what  a  brick  your  mother  is 
to  make  us  so  cosy.  But  look  here  now,  you 
must  answer  straight  up  when  the  fellows  speak 
to  you,  and  don't  be  afraid.     If  you're  afraid, 


28  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

you'll  get  bullied.  And  don't  you  say  you 
can  sing  ;  and  don't  you  ever  talk  about  home, 
and  your  mother  and  sisters." 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  ready  to  cry. 

''But  please,"  said  he,  ''  mayn't  I  talk  about 
— about  home  to  you  ?" 

'^  Oh,  yes,  I  like  it.  But  don't  talk  to  boys 
you  don't  know,  or  they'll  call  you  home-sick, 
or  mamma's  darling,  or  some  such  stuff.  What 
a  jolly  desk!  is  that  your's?  And  what  stun- 
ning binding !  why,  your  school-books  look  like 
novels." 

And  Tom  was  soon  deep  in  Arthur's  goods 
and  chattels,  all  new  and  good  enough  for  a 
fifth -form  boy,  and  hardly  thought  of  his  friends 
outside,  till  the  prayer-bell  rung. 

I  have  already  described  the  school-house 
prayers ;  they  were  the  same  on  the  first  night 
as  on  the  other  nights,  save  for  the  gaps  caused 
by  the  absence  of  those  boys  who  came  late, 
and  the  line  of  new  boys  who  stood  all  together 
at  the  further  table — of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  like 
young  bears,  with  all  their  troubles  to  come,  as 
Tom's  father  had  said  to  1dm  when  he  was  in 
the  same  position.  He  thought  of  it  as  he  looked 
at  the  line,  and  poor  little  slight  Arthur  standing 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  29 

with  therQ;  and  as  lie  was  leading  him  np  stairs 
to  Number  4,  directly  after  prayers,  and  showing 
him  his  bed.  It  was  a  huge,  high,  airy  room, 
with  two  large  windows  looking  on  to  the  school 
close.  There  were  twelve  beds  in  the  room. 
The  one  in  the  furthest  corner  by  the  fireplace, 
occupied  by  the  sixth-form  boy  who  was  respon- 
sible for  the  discipline  of  the  room,  and  the  rest 
by  boys  in  the  lower-fifth  and  other  junior  forms, 
all  fags,  (for  the  fifth-form  boys,  as  has  been  said, 
slept  in  rooms  by  themselves.)  Being  fags,  the 
eldest  of  them  was  not  more  than  about  sixteen 
years  old,  and  were  all  bound  to  be  up  and  in 
bed  by  ten ;  the  sixth-form  boys  came  to  bed 
from  ten  to  a  quarter  past,  (at  which  time  the 
old  verger  came  round  to  put  the  candles  out,) 
except  when  they  sat  up  to  read. 

Within  a  few  minutes,  therefore,  of  their 
entry,  all  the  other  boys  who  slept  in  Number 
4  had  come  up.  The  little  fellows  went  quietly 
to  their  own  beds,  and  began  undressing  and 
talking  to  one  another  in  whispers ;  while  the 
elder,  amongst  whom  was  Tom,  sat  chatting 
about  on  one  another's  beds,  with  their  jacket 
and  waistcoats  off.  Poor  little  Arthur  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  novelty  of  his  position.     The 


30  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

idea  of  sleeping  in  tlie  room  with  strange  boys, 
had  clearly  never  crossed  liis  mind  before,  and 
was  as  painful  as  it  was  strange  to  liim.  He 
could  liardly  bear  to  take  liis  jacket  off;  how- 
ever, presently  with  an  effort  off  it  came,  and 
then  he  paused  and  looked  at  Tom,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed,  talking  and 
laughing. 

^'Please,  Brown,"  he  whispered,  "  may  I  wash 
my  face  and  hands  ?" 

"Of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Tom  staring; 
"  that's  your  washhand-stand  under  the  window, 
second  from  your  bed.  You'll  have  to  go  down 
for  more  water  in  the  morning  if  you  use  it  all." 
And  on  he  went  with  his  talk,  while  Arthur 
stole  timidly  from  between  the  beds  out  to  his 
washhand-stand,  and  began  his  ablutions,  thereby 
drawing  for  a  moment  on  himself  the  attention 
of  the  room. 

On  went  the  talk  and  laughter.  Arthur 
finished  his  washing  and  undressing,  and  put  on 
his  night-gown.  He  then  looked  round  more 
nervously  than  ever.  Two  or  three  of  the  little 
boys  were  already  in  bed,  sitting  up  with  their 
chins  on  ther  knees.  The  light  burned  clear, 
the  noise  went  on,     It  was  a  trying  moment  for 


BROWN  AND   ARTHUR.  31 

tlie  poor  little  lonely  boy ;  however  this  time  lie 
didn't  ask  Tom  what  he  might  or  might  not  do, 
but  dropped  on  his  knees  by  his  bedside,  as  he 
had  done  every  day  from  his  childhood,  to  open 
his  heart  to  Him,  who  heareth  the  cry  and  beareth 
the  sorrows  of  the  tender  child,  and  the  strong 
man  in  agony. 

Tom  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  unlac- 
ing his  boots,  so  that  his  back  was  towards  Arthur, 
and  he  didn't  see  what  had  happened,  and  looked 
up  in  wonder  at  the  sudden  silence.  Then  two 
or  three  boys  laughed  and  sneered,  and  a  big 
brutal  fellow,  who  was  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  picked  up  a  slipper,  and  shied  it  at 
the  kneeling  boy,  calling  him  a  snivelling  young 
shaver.  Then  Tom  saw  the  whole,  and  the  next 
n^oment  the  boot  he  had  just  pulled  of  flew 
straight  at  the  head  of  the  bully,  who  had  just 
time  to  throw  up  his  arm  and  catch  it  on  his 
elbow. 

"Confound  you.  Brown,  what's  that  for?" 
roared  he,  stamping  with  pain. 

"  Kever  mind  what  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  step- 
ping on  to  the  floor,  every  drop  of  blood  in  his 
body  tingling;  "if  any  fellow  wants  the  other 
boot,  he  knows  how  to  get  it." 


32  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

Wliat  would  have  been  the  result  is  doubtful, 
for  at  this  moment  the  sixth-form  boy  came  in, 
and  not  another  word  could  be  said.  Tom  and 
the  rest  rushed  into  bed  and  finished  their  un- 
robing there,  and  the  old  verger,  as  punctual  as 
the  clock,  had  put  out  the  candle  in  another 
minute,  and  toddled  on  to  the  next  room,  shutting 
their  door  with  his  usual  "  Good  night,  genl'm'n." 

There  were  many  boys  in  the  room  by  whom 
that  little  scene  was  taken  to  heart  before  they 
slept.  But  sleep  seemed  to  have  deserted  the 
pillow  of  poor  Tom.  For  some  time  his  excite- 
ment, and  the  flood  of  memories  which  chased 
one  another  through  his  brain,  kept  him  from 
thinking  or  resolving.  His  head  throbbed,  his 
heart  leapt,  and  he  could  hardly  keep  himself 
from  springing  out  of  bed  and  rushing  about  the 
room.  Then  the  thought  of  his  own  mother 
came  across  him,  and  the  promise  he  had  made 
at  her  knee,  years  ago,  never  to  forget  to  kneel 
by  his  bedside,  and  give  himself  up  to  his  Father, 
before  he  laid  his  head  on  his  pillow,  from  which 
it  might  never  rise ;  and  he  lay  down  gently  and 
cried  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  He  was  only 
fourteen  years  old. 

It  was  no  light  act  of  courage  in  those  days, 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  33 

my  dear  boys,  for  a  little  fellow  to  say  his  prayers 
publicly,  even  at  Rugby.  A  few  years  later, 
wben  Arnold's  manly  piety  bad  begun  to  leaven 
the  scbool,  the  tables  turned ;  before  be  died,  in 
the  scbool-bouse  at  least,  and  I  believe  in  the 
other  bouses,  tbe  rule  was  the  other  way.  But 
poor  Tom  had  come  to  school  in  other  times.  The 
first  few  nights  after  he  came  he  did  not  kneel 
down  because  of  the  noise,  but  sat  up  in  bed  till 
the  candle  was  out,  and  then  stole  out  and  said 
his  prayers,  in  fear  lest  some  one  should  find  him 
out.  So  did  many  another  poor  little  fellow. 
Then  he  began  to  think  that  he  might  just  as 
Avell  say  his  prayers  in  bed,  and  then  that  it 
didn't  matter  whether  he  was  kneeling,  or  sitting, 
or  lying  down.  And  so  it  had  come  to  pass  with 
Tom,  as  with  all  who  will  not  confess  their  Lord 
before  men ;  and  for  the  last  year  he  had  pro- 
bably not  said  his  prayers  in  earnest  a  dozen 
times. 

Poor  Tom !  the  first  and  bitterest  feeling  which 
was  like  to  break  his  heart,  was  the  sense  of  his 
o^vn  cowardice.  The  vice  of  all  others  which  he 
loathed  was  brought  in  and  burned  in  on  his  own 
soul.  He  had  lied  to  his  mother,  to  his  con- 
science, to  his  God.     How  could  he  bear  it? 


34  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

And  then  the  poor  little  weak  boy,  whom  he  had 
pitied  and  almost  scorned  for  his  weakness,  had 
done  that,  which  he,  braggart  as  he  was,  dared  not 
do.  The  first  dawn  of  comfort  came  to  him  in 
swearing  to  himself  that  he  would  stand  by  that 
boy  through  thick  and  thin,  and  cheer  him,  and 
help  him,  and  bear  his  burthens,  for  the  good 
deed  done  that  night.  Then  he  resolved  to  write 
home  next  day  and  tell  his  mother  all,  and  what 
a  coward  her  son  had  been.  And  then  peace 
came  to  him  as  he  resolved,  lastly,  to  bear  his 
testimony  next  morning.  The  morning  would 
be  harder  than  the  night  to  begin  with,  but  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  afford  to  let  one  chance 
slip.  Several  times  he  faltered,  for  the  devil 
showed  him  first,  all  his  old  friends  calling  him 
"Saint,"  and  "Square-toes,"  and  a  dozen  hard 
names,  and  whispered  to  him  that  his  motives 
would  be  misunderstood,  and  he  would  only  be 
left  alone  with  the  new  boy ;  whereas  it  was  his 
duty  to  keep  all  means  of  influence,  that  he 
might  do  good  to  the  largest  number.  And  then 
came  the  more  subtle  temptation,  "Shall  I  not 
be  showing  myself  braver  than  others  by  doing 
this  ?  Have  I  any  right  to  begin  it  now  ?  Ought 
I  not  rather  to  pray  in  my  own  study,  letting 


I 


BROWN  AND   ARTHUR.  35 

otlier  boys  know  that  I  do  so,  and  trying  to  lead 
tliem  to  it,  while  in  public  at  least  I  slionld  go 
on  as  I  have  done?"  However,  his  good  angel 
was  too  strong  that  night,  and  he  turned  on  his 
side  and  slept,  tired  of  trying  to  reason,  but 
resolved  to  follow  the  impulse  which  had  been 
so  strong,  and  in  which  he  had  found  peace. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  and  washed  and 
dressed,  all  but  his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  just  as 
the  ten  minutes'  bell  began  to  ring,  and  then  in 
the  face  of  the  whole  room  knelt  down  to  pray. 
Not  five  words  could  he  say — the  bell  mocked 
him ;  he  was  listening  for  every  whisper  in  the 
room — what  were  they  all  thinking  of  him? 
He  was  ashamed  to  go  on  kneeling,  ashamed  to 
rise  from  his  knees.  At  last,  as  it  Avere  from  his 
inmost  heart,  a  still  small  voice  seemed  to  breathe 
forth  the  words  of  the  publican,  "  God  be  merci- 
ful to  me  a  sinner !"  He  repeated  them  over  and 
over,  clinging  to  them  as  for  his  life,  and  rose 
from  his  knees  comforted  and  humbled,  and  ready 
to  face  the  whole  world.  It  was  not  needed ;  two 
other  boys  besides  Arthur  had  already  followed 
his  example,  and  he  went  down  to  the  great  school 
with  a  glimmering  of  another  lesson  in  his  heart — 
the  lesson  that  he  who  has  conquered  his  own  cow- 


36  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

ard  spirit  has  conquered  the  whole  outward  world; 
and  that  other  one,  which  the  old  prophet  learnt 
in  the  cave  at  Mount  Iloreb,  when  he  hid  his 
face,  and  the  still  small  voice  asked,  "  What  doest 
thou  here,  Elijah  ?"  that  however  we  may  fancy 
ourselves  alone  on  the  side  of  good,  the  King 
and  Lord  of  men  is  nowhere  without  His  wit- 
nesses ;  for  in  every  society,  however  seemingly 
corrupt  and  godless,  there  are  those  who  have 
not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal. 

He  found,  too,  how  greatly  he  had  exaggerated 
the  effect  to  be  produced  by  his  act.  For  a  few 
nights  there  was  a  sneer  or  a  laugh  when  he 
knelt  down,  but  this  passed  off  soon,  and  one  by 
one  all  the  other  boys  but  three  or  four  followed 
the  lead.  I  fear  that  this  was  in  some  measure 
owing  to  the  fact,  that  Tom  could  probably  have 
thrashed  any  boy  in  the  room  except  the  prae- 
postor; at  any  rate,  everybody  knew  that  he 
would  try  upon  very  slight  provocation,  and 
didn't  choose  to  run  the  risk  of  a  hard  fight 
because  Tom  Brown  had  taken  a  fancy  to  say 
his  prayers.  Some  of  the  small  boys  of  Number 
4  communicated  the  new  state  of  things  to  their 
chums,  and  in  several  other  rooms  the  poor  little 
fellows  tried  it  on ;  in  one  instance  or  so,  where 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  3t 

the  pra3poster  heard  of  it  and  interfered  very 
decidedly,  with  partial  success ;  hut  in  the  rest, 
after  a  short  struggle,  the  confessors  were  bullied 
or  laughed  down,  and  the  old  state  of  things  went 
on  for  some  time  longer.  Before  either  Tom 
Brown  or  Arthur  left  the  school-house,  there 
was  no  room  in  which' it  had  not  become  the 
regular  custom.  I  trust  it  is  so  still,  and  that 
the  old  heathen  state  of  things  has  gone  out  for 
ever. 


CHAPTER  11.     . 

THE  NEW  BOY. 

*'  And  Heaven's  rich  instincts  in  him  grew 
As  effortless  as  woodhmd  nooks 
Send  violets  up  and  paint  them  blue." — Lowell. 

I  DO  not  mean  to  recount  all  the  little  troubles 
and  annoyances  whicli  thronged  upon  Tom  at 
the  beginning   of  this   half-year,  in   his   new- 
character  of  bear-leader  to  a  gentle  little  boy 
straight  from  home.     He  seemed  to  himself  to 
have  become  a  new  boy  again,  without  any  of 
the  long-suffering  and  meekness  indispensable 
for   supporting  that   character  with  moderate 
success.     From  morning  till  night  he  had  the 
feeling  of  responsibility  on  his  mind,  and  even 
if  he  left  Arthur  in  their  study  or  in  the  close 
for  an  hour,  was  never  at  ease  till  he  had  him  in 
sight  again.     He  waited  for  him  at  the  doors  of 
the  school  after  every  lesson  and  every  calling- 
over  ;  watched  that  no  tricks  were  played  him, 
and  none  but  the  regulation  questions  asked; 
kept  his  eye  on  his  plate  at  dinner  and  breakfast, 
to  see  that  no  unfair  depredations  were  made 
38 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  89 

upon  his  viands;  in  short,  as  East  remarked, 
cackled  after  Mm  like  a  hen  with  one  chick.  /- 

Arthur  took  a  long  time  thawing  too,  which 
made  it  all  the  harder  ^vork ;  was  sadly  timid ; 
scarcely  ever  spoke  unless  Tom  spoke  to  him 
first ;  and,  worst  of  all,  would  agree  with  him  in 
everything,  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  for 
Brown  to  bear.  He  got  quite  angry  sometimes, 
as  they  sat  together  of  a  night  in  their  study,  at 
this  provoking  habit  of  agreement,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  breaking  out  a  dozen  times  with  a 
lecture  upon  the  propriety  of  a  fellow  having  a 
will  of  his  own  and  speaking  out ;  but  managed 
to  restrain  himself  by  the  thought  that  it  might 
only  frighten  Arthur,  and  the  remembrance  of 
the  lesson  he  had  learnt  from  him  on  his  first 
night  at  Number  4.  Then  he  would  resolve  to 
sit  still,  and  not  say  a  word  till  Arthur  began ; 
but  he  was  always  beat  at  that  game,  and  had 
presently  to  begin  talking  in  despair,  fearing  lest 
Arthur  might  think  he  was  vexed  at  something 
if  he  didn't,  and  dog-tired  of  sitting  tongue-tied. 

It  was  hard  work  1  But  Tom  had  taken  it  up  ; 
and  meant  to  stick  to  it,  and  go  through  with  it, 
so  as  to  satisfy  himself;  in  which  resolution  he 
was  much  assisted  by  the  chaffing  of  East  and 


40  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

Ills  otlier  old  friends,  who  began  to  call  liim  "dry- 
nurse,"  and  otherwise  to  break  their  small  wit 
on  him.  But  when  they  took  other  ground,  as 
they  did  every  now  and  then,  Tom  was  sorely 
puzzled. 

''Tell  you  what,  Tommy,"  East  would  say, 
you'll  spoil  young  hopeful  with  too  much  cod- 
dling. Why  can't  you  let  him^  go  about  by 
himself,  and  find  his  own  level  ?  He'll  never  be 
worth  a  button,  if  you  go  on  keeping  him  under 
your  skirts." 

"  Well,  but  he  ain't  fit  to  fight  his  own  way 
yet ;  I'm  trying  to  get  him  to  it  every  day — but 
he's  very  odd.  Poor  little  beggar !  I  can't  make 
him  out  a  bit.  He  ain't  a  bit  like  anything  I've 
ever  seen  or  heard  of — he  seems  all  over  nerves ; 
anything  you  say,  seems  to  hurt  him  like  a  cut 
or  a  blow." 

"  That  sort  of  boy's  no  use  here,"  said  East, 
"  he'll  ony  spoil.  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do, 
Tommy.  Go  and  get  a  nice  large  band-box 
made,  and  put  him  in  with  plenty  of  cotton-wool, 
and  a  pap-bottle,  labelled  '  With  care — this  side 
up,'  and  send  him  back  to  mamma." 

"I  think  I  shall  make  a  hand  of  him  though," 
said  Tom,  smiling,  "say  what  you  will.     There's 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  41 

sometliing  about  him,  every  now  and  then,  whicli 
shows  me  he's  got  pluck  somewhere  in  him. 
That's  the  only  thing  after  all,  that'll  wash,  ain't 
it,  old  Scud  ?  But  how  to  get  at  it  and  bring 
it  out?" 

Tom  took  one  hand  out  of  his  breeches-pocket 
and  stuck  it  in  his  back  hair  for  a  scratch,  giving 
his  hat  a  tilt  over  his  nose,  his  one  method  of  in- 
voking wisdom.  He  stared  at  the  ground  with 
a  ludicrously  puzzled  look,  and  presently  looked 
up  and  met  East's  eyes.  That  young  gentlemen 
slapped  him  on  the  back,  and  then  put  his  arm 
round  his  shoulder,  as  they  strolled  through  the 
quadrangle  together.  "  Tom,"  said  he,  "  blest  if 
you  ain't  the  best  old  fellow  ever  was — I  do  like 
to  see  you  go  into  a  thing.  Hang  it,  I  wish  I 
could  take  things  as  you  do — but  I  never  can 
get  higher  than  a  joke.  Everything's  a  joke.  If 
I  was  going  to  be  flogged  next  minute,  I  should 
be  in  a  blue  funk,  but  I  couldn't  help  laughing 
at  it  for  the  life  of  me." 

After  this  East  came  a  good  deal  to  their  study, 

and  took  notice  of  Arthur ;  and  soon  allowed  to 

Tom,  that  he  was  a  thorough  little  gentleman, 

and  would  get  over  his  shyness  all  in  good  time  i 

which  much  comforted  our  hero.     He  felt  every 
2b2 


42  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

day,  too,  the  value  of  having  an  object  in  his 
life,  something  that  drew  him  out  of  himself; 
and,  it  being  the  dull  time  of  the  year,  and  no 
games  going  about  for  which  he  much  cared,  was 
happier  than  he  had  ever  yet  been  at  school, 
which  was  saying  a  great  deal. 
.  The  time  which  Tom  allowed  himself  away 
from  his  charge,  was  from  locking-up  till  supper- 
time.  During  this  hour,  or  hour-and-a-half,  he 
used  to  take  his  fling,  going  round  to  the  studies 
of  all  his  acquaintance,  sparring  or  gossiping  in 
the  hall,  now  jumping  the  old  iron-bound  tables, 
or  carving  a  bit  of  his  name  on  them,  then  join- 
ing in  some  chorus  of  merry  voices ;  in  fact, 
blowing  off  his  steam,  as  we  should  now  call  it. 
This  process  was  so  congenial  to  his  temper, 
and  Arthur  showed  himself  so  pleased  at  the 
arrangement,  that  it  was  several  weeks  before 
Tom  was  ever  in  their  study  before  supper.  One 
evening,  however,  he  rushed  in  to  look  for  an  old 
chisel,  or  some  corks,  or  other  article  essential  to 
his  pursuit  for  the  time  being,  and  while  rum- 
maging about  in  the  cupboards,  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  and  was  caught  at  once  by  the  figure 
of  poor  little  Arthur.  The  boy  was  sitting  with 
his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  head  leaning  on 


i 


BROWN  AND  ARTHUR.  43 

his  handS;  and  before  him  an  open  book,  on 
which  his  tears  were  falling  fast.  Tom  shut  the 
door  at  once,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  by  Ar- 
thur, putting  his  arm  round  his  neck. 

"Why,  young'un!  what's  the  matter?"  said  he 
kindly;  "you  ain't  unhappy,  are  you?" 

"  Oh  no.  Brown,"  s^d  the  little  boy,  looking 
up  with  the  great  tears  in  his  eyes,  "you  are  so 
kind  to  me,  I'm  very  happy." 

"Why  don't  you  call  me  Tom?  lots  of  boys 
do,  that  I  don't  like  half  so  much  as  you.  What 
are  you  reading  then  ?  Hang  it,  you  must  come 
about  with  me,  and  not  mope  yourself,"  and  Tom 
cast  down  his  eyes  on  the  book  and  saw  it  was 
the  Bible.  He  was  silent  for  a  minute,  and 
thought  to  himself,  "Lesson  Number  2,  Tom 
Brown," — and  then  said  gently — 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  this,  Arthur,  and 
ashamed  that  I  don't  read  the  Bible  more,  myself. 
Do  you  read  it  every  night  before  supper  while 
I'm  out?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  wish  you'd  wait  till  afterwards,  and 
then  we'd  read  together.  But,  Arthur,  why 
does  it  make  you  cry  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  I'm  unhappy.    But  at  home, 


44  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

wliile  my  fatlier  was  alive,  we  always  read  the 
lessons  after  tea ;  and  I  love  to  read  them  over 
now,  and  try  to  remember  what  he  said  about 
them.  I  can't  remember  all,  and  I  think  I 
scarcely  imderstand  a  great  deal  of  what  I  do 
remember.  But  it  all  comes  back  to  me,  so  fresh, 
that  I  can't  help  crying  ^ometimes  to  think  I 
shall  never  read  them  again  with  him." 

Arthur  had  never  spoken  of  his  home  before, 
and  Tom  hadn't  encouraged  him  to  do  so,  as  his 
blundering  school-boy  reasoning  made  him  think 
that  Arthur  would  be  softened  and  less  manly 
for  thinking  of  home.  But  now  he  was  fairly 
interested,  and  forgot  all  about  chisels  and 
bottled  beer ;  while  with  very  little  encourage- 
ment Arthur  launched  into  his  home  history, 
and  the  prayer-bell  put  them  both  out  sadly 
when  it  rang  to  call  them  to  the  hall. 

From  this  time  Arthur  constantly  spoke  of 
his  home,  and  above  all,  of  his  father,  who  had 
been  dead  about  a  year,  and  whose  memory  Tom 
soon  got  to  love  and  reverence  almost  as  much 
as  his  own  son  did. 

Arthur's  father  had  been  the  clergyman  of  a 
parish  in  the  Midland  counties,  which  had  risen 
into  a  large   town  during  the   war,  and  upon 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  45 

whicli  the  Iiard  years  wHich  followed  had  fallen 
with  a  fearful  weight.  The  trade  had  been  half 
ruined;  and  then  came  the  old  sad  story,  of  mas- 
ters reducing  their  establishments,  men  turned 
off  and  wandering  about,  hungry  and  wan  in 
body,  and  fierce  in  soul,  from  the  thought  of 
wives  and  children  starving  at  home,  and  the 
last  sticks  of  furniture  going  to  the  pawn-shop. 
Children  taken  from  school,  and  lounging  about 
the  dirty  streets  and  courts,  too  listless  almost  to 
play,  and  squalid  in  rags  and  misery.  And  then 
the  fearful  struggle  between  the  employers  and 
men;  lowerings  of  wages,  strikes,  and  the  long 
course  of  oft-repeated  crime,  ending  every  now 
and  then  with  a  riot,  a  fire,  and  the  county  yeo- 
manry. There  is  no  need  here  to  dwell  upon 
such  tales ;  the  Englishman  into  whose  soul  they 
have  not  sunk  deep,  is  not  worthy  the  name: 
you  English  boys  for  whom  this  book  is  meant 
( God  bless  your  bright  faces  and  kind  hearts !) 
will  learn  it  all  soon  enough. 

Into  such  a  parish  and  state  of  society,  Arthur's 
father  had  been  thrown  at  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
a  young  married  parson,  full  of  faith,  hope,  and 
love.  He  had  battled  with  it  like  a  man,  and 
had  lots  of  fine  Utopian  ideas  about  the  perfect- 


46  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

ability  of  mankind,  glorious  liumariity,  and  such 
like  knocked  out  of  his  head ;  and  a  real,  whole- 
some Christian  love  for  the  poor,  struggling, 
sinning  men,  of  whom  he  felt  himself  one,  and 
with  and  for  whom  he  spent  fortune,  and  strength 
and  life,  driven  into  his  heart.  He  had  battled 
like  a  man,  and  gotten  a  man's  reward.  No  sil- 
ver teapots  or  salvers,  with  flowery  inscriptions, 
setting  forth  his  virtues  and  the  appreciation  of 
a  genteel  parish;  no  fat  living  or  stall,  for  which 
he  never  looked,  and  didn't  care ;  no  sighs  and 
praises  of  comfortable  dowagers  and  well  got-up 
young  women,  who  worked  him  slippers,  sugared 
his  tea,and  adored  him  as  "  a  devoted  man ; "  but 
a  manly  respect,  wrung  from  the  unwilling  souls 
of  men  who  fancied  his  order  their  natural  ene- 
mies ;  the  fear  and  hatred  of  every  one  who  was 
false  or  unjust  in  the  district,  were  he  master  or 
man;  and  the  blessed  sight  of  women  and  chil- 
dren daily  becoming  more  human  and  more 
homely,  a  comfort  to  themselves  and  to  their 
husbands  and  fathers. 

These  things  of  course  took  time,  and  had  to 
be  fought  for  Avith  toil  and  sweat  of  brain  and 
heart,  and  with  the  life  blood  poured  out.  A  ■ '' 
that,  Arthur  had  laid  his  account  to  give,  a. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  41 

took  as  a  matter  of  course ;  neither  pitying  him- 
self, or  looking  on  himself  as  a  martyr,  when  he 
felt  the  wear  and  tear  making  him  feel  old  before 
his  time,  and  the  stifling  air  of  fever  dens  telling 
on  his  health.  His  wife  seconded  him  in  every- 
thing. She  had  been  rather  fond  of  society,  and 
much  admired  and  run  after  before  her  marriage ; 
and  the  London  world  to  which  she  had  belonged, 
pitied  poor  Fanny  Evelyn  when  she  married  the 
young  clergyman,  and  went  to  settle  in  that 
smoky  hole  Turley,  a  very  nest  of  chartism  and 
atheism,  in  a  part  of  the  county  which  all  the 
decent  families  had  had  to  leave  for  years.  '  How- 
ever, somehow  or  other  she  didn't  seem  to  care. 
If  her  husband's  living  had  been  amongst  green 
fields  and  near  pleasant  neighbours,  she  would 
have  liked  it  better,  that  she  never  pretended  to 
deny.  But  there  they  were:  the  air  wasn't  bad 
after  all ;  the  people  were  very  good  sort  of  peo- 
ple, civil  to  you  if  you  were  civil  to  them,  after 
the  first  brush ;  and  they  didn't  expect  to  work 
miracles,  and  convert  them  all  ofi-hand  into 
model  Christians.'  So  he  and  she  went  quietly 
among  the  folk,  talking  to  and  treating  them 
just  as  they  would  have  done  people  of  their  own 
rank.     They  didn't  feel  that  they  were  doing 


48  BROWN   AND   ARTUUR. 

anytliing  out  of  the  common  way,  and  so  were 
perfectly  natural,  and  had  none  of  that  condescen- 
sion or  consciousness  of  manner,  which  so 
outrages  the  independent  poor.  And  thus  they 
gradually  won  respect  and  confidence ;  and  after 
sixteen  years  he  was  looked  up  to  by  the  whole 
neighbourhood  as  the  just  man,  the  man  to  whom 
masters  and  men  could  go  in  their  strikes,  and 
all  in  their  quarrels  and  difficulties,  and  by  whom 
the  right  and  true  word  would  be  said  without 
fear  or  favour.  And  the  women  had  come 
round  to  take  her  advice,  and  go  to  her  as  a 
friend  in  all  their  troubles ;  while  the  children 
all  worshipped  the  very  ground  she  trod  on. 

They  had  three  children,  two  daughters  and  a 
son,  little  George,  who  came  between  his  sisters. 
He  had  been  a  very  delicate  boy  from  his  child- 
hood; they  thought  he  had  a  tendency  to 
consumption,  and  so  he  had  been  kept  at  home 
and  taught  by  his  father,  who  had  made  a 
companion  of  him,  and  from  whom  he  had  gained 
good  scholarship,  and  a  knowledge  of  and  interest 
in  many  subjects  which  boys  in  general  never 
come  across  till  they  are  many  years  older. 

Just  as  he  reached  his  thirteenth  year,  and 
his  father  had  settled  that  he  was  strong  enough 


BiiO'vVX   AND   ARTHUR.  49 

to  go  to  school,  and,  after  much  debating  with 
himself,  had  resolved  to  send  him  there,  a  des- 
perate typhus-fever  broke  out  in  the  town ;  most 
of  the  other  clergy,  and  almost  all  the  doctors, 
ran  away ;  the  work  fell  with  tenfold  weight  on 
those  who  stood  to  their  work.  Arthur  and  his 
wife  both  caught  the  fever,  of  which  he  died  in 
a  few  days,  and  she  recovered,  having  been  able 
to  nurse  him  to  the  end,  and  store  up  his  last 
words.  He  was  sensible  to  the  last,  and  calm 
and  happy,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  with 
fearless  trust  for  a  few  years  in  the  hands  of  the 
Lord  and  Friend  who  had  lived  and  died  for 
him,  and  for  whom  he,  to  the  best  of  his  power, 
had  lived  and  died.  His  widow^s  mourning 
was  deep  and  gentle ;  she  was  more  affected  by 
the  request  of  the  Committee  of  a  Freethinking 
club,  established  in  the  town  by  some  of  the 
factory  hands  (which  he  had  striven  against  with 
might  and  main,  and  nearly  suppressed),  that 
some  of  their  number  might  be  allowed  to  help 
bear  the  coffin,  than  any  thing  else.  Two  of 
them  were  chosen,  who,  with  six  other  labouring 
men,  his  own  fellow- workmen  and  friends,  bore 
him  to  the  grave — a  man  who  had  fought  the 

Lord's  fight,  even  unto  the  death.     The  shops 
3c 


50  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

were  closed,  and  the  factories  shut  that  day  in 
the  parish,  yet  no  master  stopped  the  day's 
wages;  but  for  many  a  year  afterwards  the 
townsfolk  felt  the  want  of  that  brave,  hopeful, 
loving  parson,  and  his  wife,  who  had  lived  to 
teach  them  mutual  forbearance  and  helpfulness, 
and  had  almost  at  last  given  them  a  glimpse  of 
what  this  old  world  would  be,  if  people  would 
live  for  God  and  each  other,  instead  of  for 
themselves. 

What  has  all  this  to  do  with  our  story  ?  Well, 
my  dear  boys,  let  a  fellow  go  on  his  own  way, 
or  you  won't  get  any  thing  out  of  him  worth 
having.  I  must  show  you  what  sort  of  a  man  it 
was  who  had  begotten  and  trained  little  Arthur, 
or  else  you  won't  believe  in  him,  which  I  am 
resolved  you  shall  do,  and  you  won't  see  how  he, 
the  timid,  weak  boy,  had  points  in  him  from 
which  the  bravest  and  strongest  recoiled,  and 
made  his  presence  and  example  felt  from  the 
first,  on  all  sides,  unconsciously  to  himself,  and 
without  the  least  attempt  at  proselytizing.  The 
spirit  of  his  father  was  in  him,  and  the  Friend  to 
whom  his  father  had  left  him  did  not  neglect  the 
trust. 

After  supper  that  night,  and  almost  nightly 


BEOWN   AND   ARTHUR.  51 

for  years  afterwards,  Tom  and  Arthur,,  and  by 
degrees  East  occasionally,  and  sometimes  one, 
sometimes  another,  of  their  friends,  read  a  chapter 
of  the  Bible  together,  and  talked  it  over  after- 
wards. Tom  was  at  first  utterly  astonished,  and 
almost  shocked,  at  the  sort  of  way  in  which 
Arthur  read  the  book,  and  talked  about  the  men 
and  women  whose  lives  were  there  told.  The 
first  night  they  happened  to  fall  on  the  chapters 
about  the  famine  in  Egypt,  and  Arthur  began 
talking  about  Joseph  as  if  he  were  a  living 
statesman ;  just  as  he  might  have  talked  about 
Lord  Grey  and  the  Eeform  Bill ;  only  that  they 
were  much  more  living  realities  to  him.  The 
book  was  to  him,  Tom  saw,  the  most  vivid  and 
delightful  history  of  real  people,  who  might  do 
right  or  wrong,  just  like  any  one  who  was 
walking  about  in  Rugby — the  Doctor,  or  the 
master,  or  the  sixth-form  boys.  But  the  aston- 
ishment soon  passed  off,  the  scales  seemed  to 
drop  from  his  eyes,  and  the  book  became  at  once 
and  forever,  to  him  the  great  human  and  divine 
book,  and  the  men  and  women,  whom  he  had 
looked  upon  as  something  quite  different  from 
himself,  became  his  friends  and  counsellors. 
For  our  purposes,  however,  the  history  of  one 


52  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

night's  reading  Avill  be  snfficient,  whicli  must  be 
told  here,  now  we  are  on  the  subject,  though  it 
didn't  happen  till  a  year  afterwards,  and  long 
after  the  events  recorded  in  the  next  chapter  of 
our  story. 

Arthur,  Tom  and  East  were  together  one 
night,  and  read  the  story  of  Naaman  coming  to 
Elisha  to  be  cured  of  his  leprosy.  When  the 
chapter  was  finished,  Tom  shut  the  Bible  with 
a  slap. 

"  I  can't  stand  that  fellow  ISTaaman,"  said  he, 
"  after  what  he'd  seen  and  felt,  going  back  and 
bowing  himself  down  in  the  house  of  Kimmon, 
because  his  efieminate  scoundrel  of  a  master  did 
it.  I  wonder  Elisha  took  the  trouble  to  heal 
him.     How  he  must  have  despised  him." 

"  Yes  there  you  go  off"  as  usual,  with  a  shell 
on  your  head,"  stuck  in  East,  who  always  took 
the  opposite  side  to  Tom;  half  from  love  of 
argument,  half  from  conviction.  "  How  do  you 
know  he  didn't  think  better  of  it  ?  how  do  you 
know  his  master  was  a  scoundrel  ?  His  letter 
don't  look  like  it,  and  the  book  don't  say  so." 

"I  don't  care,"  rejoined  Tom;  "why  did 
Naaman  talk  about  bowing  down,  then,  if  he 
didn't  mean  to  do  it  ?     He  wasn't  likely  to  ge 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  53 

more  in  earnest  wlien  he  got  back  to  court,  and 
away  from  the  prophet." 

"Well  but,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  "see  what  Elisha 
says  to  him,  '  Go  in  peace.'  He  wouldn't  have 
said  that  if  Naaman  had  been  in  the  wrong." 

"I  don't  see  that  that  means  more  than  saying, 
'  You're  not  the  man  I  took  you  for.'  " 

"No,  no,  that  won't  do  at  all,"  said  East;  "read 
the  words  fairly,  and  take  men  as  you  find  them. 
I  like  Naaman,  and  think  he  was  a  very  fine 
fellow." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Tom  positively. 

"  Well,  I  think  East  is  right,"  said  Arthur ; 
"  I  can't  see  but  what  it's  right  to  do  the  best 
you  can,  though  it  mayn't  be  the  best  absolutely. 
Every  man  isn't  born  to  be  a  martyr." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  East ;  "  but  he's 
on  one  of  his  pet  hobbies.  How  often  have  I 
told  you,  Tom,  that  you  must  drive  a  nail  where 
it'll  go." 

'' And  how  often  have  I  told  you,"  rejoined 
Tom,  '^  that  it'll  always  go  where  you  want,  if 
you  only  stick  to  it  and  hit  hard  enough.  I 
hate  half-measures  and  compromises." 

''  Yes,  he's  a  whole-hog  man,  is  Tom.  Must 
have  the  whole  animal,  hair  and  teeth,  claws  and 


54  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

tail,"  laughed  East.  ''  Sooner  have  no  bread  any 
day,  than  half  the  loaf." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Arthur,  ''it's  rather 
puzzling;  but  ain't  most  right  things  got  by 
proper  compromises,  I  mean  where  the  princi- 
ple isn't  given  up  ?" 

"That's  just  the  point,"  said  Tom;  "I  don't 
object  to  a  compromise,  where  you  don't  give  up 
your  principle." 

"  Not  you,"  said  East  laughingly.  ''  I  know 
him  of  old,  Arthur,  and  you'll  find  him  out  some 
day.  There  isn't  such  a  reasonable  fellow  in  the 
world,  to  hear  him  talk.  He  never  wants  any- 
thing but  what's  right  and  fair ;  only  when  you 
come  to  settle  what's  right  and  fair,  it's  every 
thing  that  he  wants,  and  nothing  that  you  want. 
And  that's  his  idea  of  a  compromise.  Give  me 
the  Brown  compromise  when  I'm  on  Ms  side." 

"Now,  Harry,"  said  Tom,  "no  more  chaff — 
I'm  serious.  Look  here — this  is  what  makes 
my  blood  tingle  ;"  and  he  turned  over  the  pages 
of  his  Bible  and  read,  "  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and 
Abednego  answered  and  said  to  the  king,  "  O 
Nebuchadnezzar,  we  are  not  careful  to  answer 
thee  in  this  matter.  If  it  he  so,  our  God  whom 
we  berve  is  able  to  deliver  us  from  the  burning 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  55 

fiery  furnace,  and  He  will  deliver  ns  out  of  thine 
hand,  O  king.  But  ^  not,  be  it  known  unto 
thee,  0  king,  that  we  will  not  serve  thy  gods, 
nor  worship  the  golden  image  which  thou  hast 
set  up.  He  read  the  last  verse  twice,  emphasiz- 
ing the  nots,  and  dwelling  on  them  as  if  they 
gave  him  actual  pleasure,  and  were  hard  to  part 
with. 

They  were  silent  a  minute,  and  then  Arthur 
said,  "  Yes  that's  a  glorious  story,  but  it  don't 
prove  your  point,  Tom,  I  think.  There  are 
times  when  there  is  only  one  way,  and  that  the 
highest,  and  then  the  men  are  found  to  stand  in 
the  breach." 

"  There's  always  a  highest  way,  and  it's  always 
the  right  one,"  said  Tom.  "  How  many  times 
has  the  Doctor  told  us  that  in  his  sermons  in  the 
last  year,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Well,  you  ain't  going  to  convince  us,  is  he 
Arthur?  No  Brown  compromise  to-night,"  said 
East,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  But  it's  past  eight 
and  we  must  go  to  first  lesson.     What  a  bore." 

So  they  took  down  their  books  and  fell  to 
work;  but  Arthur  didn't  forget,  and  thought 
lono^  and  often  over  the  conversation. 


CHAPTER  III, 

ARTHUR   MAKES  A  FRIEND. 

"  Let  nature  be  your  teacher, 

Sweet  is  the  lore  which  Nature  brings; 

Our  meddling  intellect 

Mis-shapcB  the  beauteous  forms  of  things, 

■\Ve  miirder  to  dissect — 

Enough  of  Science  and  of  Art ; 

Close  up  those  barren  leaves, 

Come  forth,  and  bring  with  you  a  heart 

That  watches  and  receives."— Wordsworth. 

About  six  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  tlie 
half,  as  Tom  and  Arthur  were  sitting  one  night 
before  supper  beginning  their  verses,  Arthur 
suddenly  stopped,  and  looked  up,  and  said, 
"  Tom,  do  you  know  anything  of  Martin  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  taking  his  hand  out  of  his 
back  hair,  and  delighted  to  throw  his  Gradus  ad 
Parnassum  on  to  the  sofa :  "  I  know  him  pretty 
well.  He's  a  very  good  fellow,  but  as  mad  as  a 
hatter.  He's  called  Madman,  you  know.  And 
never  was  such  a  fellow  for  getting  all  sorts  of 
rum  things  about  him.  He  tamed  two  snakes 
last  half,  and  used  to  carry  them  about  in  his 
pocket,  and  I'll  be  bound  he's  got  some  hedge- 
56 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  61 

hogs  and  rats  in  his  cupboard  now,  and  no  one 
knows  what  besides." 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  him,"  said 
Arthur ;  "  he  was  next  to  me  in  the  form  to-day, 
and  he'd  lost  his  book  and  looked  over  mine, 
and  he  seemed  so  kind  and  gentle,  that  I  liked 
him  very  much." 

"Ah,  poor  old  madman,  he's  always  losing  his 
books,"  said  Tom,  "and  getting  called  up  and 
floored  because  he  hasn't  got  them." 

"  I  like  him  all  the  better,"  said  Arthur. 

**  Well,  he's  great  fun,  I  can  tell  you,"  said 
Tom,  throwing  himself  back  on  the  sofa  and 
chuckling  at  the  remembrance.  "  We  had  such 
a  game  with  him  one  day  last  half.  He  had 
been  kicking  up  horrid  scents  for  some  time  in 
his  study,  till  I  suppose  some  fellow  told  Mary, 
and  she  told  the  Doctor.  Any  how,  one  day  a 
little  before  dinner,  when  he  came  down  from 
the  library,  the  Doctor,  instead  of  going  home, 
came  striding  into  the  hall.  East  and  I  and  five 
or  six  other  fellows  were  at  the  fire,  and  pre- 
ciously we  stared,  for  he  don't  come  in  like  that 
once  a  year,  unless  it's  a  wet  day  and  there's  a 
fight  in  the  hall.  "East,"  says  he,  "just  come 
and  show  me  Martin's  study."  ^'  Oh,  here's  a 
3* 


58  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

game,"  whispered  the  rest  of  us,  and  we  all  cut 
up  stairs  after  the  Doctor,  East  leading.  As  we 
got  into  the  New  Row,  which  was  hardly  wide 
enough  to  hold  the  Doctor  and  his  gown,  click, 
click,  click,  we  heard  in  the  old  madman's  den. 
Then  that  stopped  all  of  a  sudden,  and  the  bolts 
went  to  like  fun :  the  madman  knew  East's  step, 
and  thought  there  was  going  to  be  a  siege. 

"  It's  the  Doctor,  Martin.  He's  here  and  wants 
to  see  you,"  sings  out  East. 

'  Then  the  bolts  went  back  slowly,  and  the  door 
opened,  and  there  was  the  old  madman  standing, 
looking  precious  scared  ;  his  jacket  off,  his  shirt- 
sleeves up  to  his  elbows,  and  his  long  skinny 
arms  all  covered  with  anchors  and  arrows  and 
letters,  tattooed  in  with  gunpowder  like  a  sailor- 
boy's,  and  a  smell  fit  to  knock  you  down  coming 
out.  'Twas  all  the  Doctor  could  do  to  stand  his 
ground,  and  East  and  I,  who  were  looking  in 
under  his  arms,  held  our  noses  tight.  The  old 
magpie  was  standing  on  the  window-sill,  all  his 
feathers  drooping,  and  looking  disgusted  and 
half-poisoned. 

"'What  can  you  be  about,  Martin?'  says  the 
Doctor ;  '  you  really  mustn't  go  on  in  this  way — 
you're  a  nuisance  to  the  whole  passage.' 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  o9 

^" '  Please,  sir,  I  was  only  mixing  up  this  pow- 
der, there  isn't  any  harm  in  it;  and  the  madman 
seized  nervously  on  his  pestle  and  mortar,  to 
show  the  Doctor  the  harmlessness  of  his  pursuits, 
and  went  off  pounding :  click,  click,  click ;  he 
hadn't  given  six  clicks  before,  puff!  up  went  the 
whole  into  a  great  blaze,  away  w^ent  the  pestle 
and  mortar  across  the  study,  and  back  we  tumbled 
into  the  passage.     The  magpie  fluttered  down 
into  the  court,  screaming,  and  the  madman  danced 
out,  howling,  with   his   fingers  in   his  mouth. 
The  Doctor  caught  hold  of  him,  and  called  to 
us  to  fetch  some  water.     'There,  you  silly  fel- 
low,' said  he,  quite  pleased  though  to  find  he 
wasn't  much  hurt,  'you  see  you  don't  know  the 
least  what  you  are  doing  with  all  these  things ; 
and  now,  mind,  you  must  give  up  practising 
chemistry  by  yourself.'     Then  he  took  hold  of 
his  arm  and  looked  at  it,  and  I  saw  he  had  to 
bite  his  lip,  and  his  eyes  twinkled ;  but  he  said, 
quite  grave,  '  Here,  you  see,  you've  been  making 
all  these  foolish  marks  on  yourself,  which  you 
can  never  get  out,  and  you'll  be  very  sorry  for 
it  in  a  year   or  two;  now  come  down  to  the 
housekeeper's  room,  and  let  us  see  if  you  are 
hurt.'     And  away  went  the  two,  and  we  all  staid 


60  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR 

and  had  a  regular  turn-out  of  the  den,  till  Martin 
came  back  with  his  hand  bandaged  and  turned 
us  out.  However,  I'll  go  and  see  what  he's 
after,  and  tell  him  to  come  in  after  prayers  to 
supper."  And  away  went  Tom  to  find  the  boy 
in  question,  who  dwelt  in  a  little  study  by  him- 
self, in  New  Row. 

The  aforesaid  Martin,  whom  Arthur  had  taken 
such  a  fancy  for,  was  one  of  those  unfortunates, 
who  were  at  that  time  of  day  (and  are,  I  fear, 
still)  quite  out  of  their  places  at  a  public- school. 
If  we  knew  how  to  use  our  boys,  Martin  would 
have  been  seized  upon  and  educated  as  a  natu- 
ral philosopher.  He  had  a  passion  for  birds, 
beasts,  and  insects,  and  knew  more  of  them  and 
their  habits  than  any  one  in  Rugby;  except, 
perhaps,  the  Doctor,  who  knew  everything.  He 
was  also  an  experimental  chemist  on  a  small 
scale,  and  had  made  unto  himself  an  electric 
machine,  from  which  it  was  his  greatest  pleasure 
and  glory  to  administer  small  shocks  to  any 
small  boys  who  were  rash  enough  to  venture 
into  his  study.  And  this  was  by  no  means  an 
adventure  free  from  excitement ;  for,  besides  the 
probability  of  a  snake  dropping  on  to  your  head 
or  twining  lovingly  up  your  leg,  or  a  rat  getting 


BROWN  AND   ARTHUR.  61 

into  your  breeches-pocket  in  searcli  of  food, 
there  was  the  animal  and  chemical  odour  to  be 
faced,  which  always  hung  about  the  den,  and 
the  chance  of  being  blo^Ti  up  in  some  of  the 
many  experiments  which  Martin  was  always 
trying,  with  the  most  wondrous  results  in  the 
shape  of  explosions  and  smells  that  mortal  boy 
ever  heard  of  Of  course,  poor  Martin,  in  con- 
sequence of  his  pursuits,  had  become  an  Ishma- 
elite  in  the  house.  In  the  first-place  he  half- 
poisoned  all  his  neighbours,  and  they  in  turn 
were  always  on  the  look-out  to  pounce  upon  any 
of  his  numerous  live  stock,  and  drive  him  frantic, 
by  enticing  his  pet  old  magpie  out  of  his  win- 
dow into  a  neighbouring  study,  and  making  the 
disreputable  old  bird  drunk  on  toast  soaked  in 
beer  and  sugar.  Then  Martin,  for  his  sins,  in- 
habited a  study  looking  into  a  small  court  some 
ten  feet  across,  the  window  of  which  was  com- 
pletely commanded  by  those  of  the  studies 
opposite  in  the  sick-room  row,  these  latter  be- 
ing at  a  slightly  higher  elevation.  East,  and 
another  boy  of  an  equally  tormenting  and  inge- 
nious turn  of  mind,  now  lived  exactly  opposite, 
and  had  expended  huge  pains  and  time  in  the 
preparation  of  instruments  of  annoyance  for  the 


62  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

belioof  of  Martin  and  liis  live  colony.  One 
morning  an  old  basket  made  its  appearance,  sus- 
pended by  a  short  cord  outside  Martin's  window, 
in  which  were  deposited  an  amateur  nest  contain- 
ing four  young  hungry  jackdaws,  the  pride  and 
glory  of  Martin's  life  for  the  time  being,  and 
which  he  was  currently  asserted  to  have  hatched 
upon  his  own  person.  Early  in  the  morning 
and  late  at  night  he  was  to  be  seen  half  out  of 
the  window,  administering  to  the  varied  wants 
of  his  callow  brood.  After  deep  cogitation. 
East  and  his  chum  had  spliced  a  knife  on  to  the 
end  of  a  fishing-rod ;  and  having  watched  Mar- 
tin out,  had,  after  half  an  hour's  severe  sawing, 
cut  the  string  by  which  the  basket  was  suspended, 
and  tumbled  it  on  to  the  pavement  below,  with 
hideous  remonstrance  from  the  occupants.  Poor 
Martin,  returning  from  his  short  absence,  col- 
lected the  fragments  and  replaced  his  brood 
(except  one  whose  neck  had  been  broken  in  the 
descent)  in  their  old  location,  suspending  them 
this  time  by  string  and  wire  twisted  together, 
defiant  of  any  sharp  instrument  which  his  per- 
secutors could  command.  But,  like  the  Kussian 
engineers  at  Sebastopol,  East  and  his  chum  had 
an  answer  fv:>r   every  move  of  the  adversary; 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  63 

and  tlie  next  day  had  mounted  a  gun  in  the 
shape  of  a  pea-shooter  upon  the  ledge  of  their 
window,  trained  so  as  to  bear  exactly  upon  the 
spot  which  Martin  had  to  occupy  while  tending 
his  nurselings.  The  moment  he  began  to  feed 
they  began  to  shoot;  in  vain  did  the  enemy 
himself  invest  in  a  pea-shooter,  and  endeavour 
to  answer  the  fire  while  he  fed  the  young  birds 
with  his  other  hand ;  his  attention  was  divided, 
and  his  shots  flew  wild,  while  every  one  of  theirs 
told  on  his  face  and  hands,  and  drove  him  into 
howlings  and  imprecations.  He  had  been  driven 
to  ensconce  the  nest  in  a  corner  of  his  already 
too  well-filled  den. 

His  door  was  barricaded  by  a  set  of  ingenious 
bolts  of  his  own  invention,  for  the  sieges  were 
frequent  by  the  neighbours  when  any  unusually 
ambrosial  odour  spread  itself  from  the  den  to 
the  neighbouring  studies.  The  door  panels  were 
in  a  normal  state  of  smash,  but  the  frame  of  the 
door  resisted  all  besiegers,  and  behind  it,  the 
owner  carried  on  his  varied  pursuits;  much  in 
the  same  state  of  mind,  I  should  fancy,  as  a 
border-farmer  lived  in,  in  the  days  of  old  moss- 
troopers, when  his  hold  might  be  summoned  or 
his  cattle  carried  off  at  any  minute  of  night  or  day. 


64  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

"Open,  Martin,    old   boy — it's  only  I,  Tom 
Brown." 

"Oh,  very  well,  stop  a  moment."  One  bolt 
went  back.     "You're  sure  East  isn't  tbere?" 

"JSTo,  no,  bang  it,  open."  Tom  gave  a  kick, 
the  other  bolt  creaked,  and  he  entered  the  den. 

Den  indeed  it  was,  about  five  feet  six  inches 
long  by  five  wide,  and  seven  feet  high.  About 
six  tattered  school-books,  and  a  few  chemical 
books.  Taxidermy,  Stanley  on  Birds,  and  an  odd 
volume  of  Bewick,  the  latter  in  much  better 
preservation,  occupied  the  top  shelves.  The 
other  shelves,  where  they  had  not  been  cut  away 
and  used  by  the  owner  for  other  purposes,  were 
fitted  up  for  the  abiding  places  of  birds,  beasts, 
and  reptiles.  There  was  no  attempt  at  carpet  or 
curtain.  The  table  was  entirely  occupied  by  the 
great  work  of  Martin,  the  electric  machine,  which 
was  covered  carefully  with  the  remains  of  his 
table-cloth.  The  jackdaw  cage  occupied  one  wall, 
and  the  other  was  adorned  by  a  small  hatchet,  a 
pair  of  climbing  irons,  and  his  tin  candle-box,  in 
which,  he  was  for  the  time  being,  endeavoring  to 
raise  a  hopeful  young  family  of  field-mice.  As 
nothing  should  be  let  to  lie  useless,  it  was  well 
that  the  candle-box  was  thus  occupied,  for  can- 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  65 

dies  Martin  never  had.  A  pound  was  issued  to 
him  weekly,  as  to  the  other  boys,  but  as  candles 
were  available  capital,  and  easily  exchangeable 
for  birds'-eggs  or  young  birds,  Martin's  pound 
invariably  found  its  way  in  a  few  hours  to  How- 
lett's,  the  bird-fancier's  in  the  Bilton  road,  who 
would  give  a  hawk's  or  nightingale's  egg,  or 
young  linnet,  in  exchange.  Martin's  ingenuity 
was  therefore  forever  on  the  rack  to  supply  him- 
self with  a  light ;  just  now  he  had  hit  upon  a 
grand  invention,  and  the  den  was  lighted  by  a 
flaring  cotton- wick  issuing  from  a  ginger-beer 
bottle  full  of  some  doleful  composition.  When 
light  altogether  failed  him,  Martin  would  loaf 
about  by  the  fires  in  the  passages  or  hall,  after 
the  manner  of  Biggs,  and  try  to  do  his  verses  or 
learn  his  lines  by  the  fire-light. 

"  Well,  old  boy,  you  haven't  got  any  sweeter 
in  the  den  this  half.  How  that  stuff  in  the  bot- 
tle smells.  Never  mind,  I  ain't  going  to  stop, 
but  you  come  up  after  prayers  to  our  study  ;  you 
know  young  Arthur ;  we've  got  Gray's  study. 
We'll  have  a  good  supper  and  talk  ^-bout  bird's- 
nesting," 

Martin  was  evidently  highly  pleased  at  the 
invitation,  and  promised  to  be  up  without  fail. 
3b2 


66  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

As  soon  as  prayers  were  over,  and  tlie  sixth 
and  fiftli-form  boys  had  withdrawn  to  the  aristo- 
cratic seclusion  of  their  own  room,  and  the  rest, 
or  democracy,  had  sat  down  to  their  supper  in 
the  hall ;  Tom  and  Arthur,  having  secured  their 
allowances  of  bread  and  cheese,  started  on  their 
feet  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  pra^poster  of  the  week, 
who  remained  in  charge  during  supper,  walking 
up  and  down  the  hall.  He  happened  to  be  an 
easy-going  fellow,  so  they  got  a  pleasant  nod  to 
their  "Please  may  I  go  out?"  and  away  they 
scrambled  to  prepare  for  Martin  a  sumptuous 
banquet.  This,  Tom  had  insisted  on,  for  he  was 
in  great  delight  on  the  occasion ;  the  reason  of 
which  delight  must  be  expounded.  The  fact 
was,  that  this  was  the  first  attempt  at  a  friendship 
of  his  own  which  Arthur  had  made,  and  Tom 
hailed  it  as  grand  step.  The  ease  with  which 
he  himself  became  hail-fellow-well-met  with  any 
body,  and  blundered  into  and  out  of  twenty 
friendships  a  half-year,  made  him  sometimes  sor- 
ry and  sometimes  angry  at  Arthur's  reserve 
and  loneliness.  True,  Arthur  was  always  plea- 
sant, and  even  jolly,  with  any  boys  who  came 
with  Tom  to  their  study ;  but  Tom  felt  that  it 
was  only  through  him,  as  it  were,  that  his  chum 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  6T 

associated  with  otliers,  and  that  but  for  him  Ar- 
thur would  have  been  dwelling  in  a  wilderness. 
This  increased  his  consciousness  of  responsibil- 
ity ;  and  though  he  hadn't  reasoned  it  out  and 
made  it  clear  to  himself;  yet  somehow  he  knew 
that  this  responsibility,  this  trust  which  he  had 
taken  on  him  without  thinking  about  it,  head- 
over-heels  in  fact,  was  the  centre  and  turning- 
point  of  his  school-life,  that  which  was  to  make 
him  or  mar  him  ;  his  appointed  work  and  trial 
for  the  time  being.  And  Tom  was  becoming  a 
new  boy,  though  Avith  frequent  tumbles  in  the 
dirt  and  perpetual  hard  battle  with  himself,  and 
was  daily  growing  in  manfulness,  and  thought- 
fulness,  as  every  high-couraged  and  well-princi- 
pled boy  must,  when  he  finds  himself  for  the 
first  time  consciously  at  grips  with  self  and  the 
devil.  Already  he  could  turn  almost  without  a 
sigh  from  the  school  gates,  from  which  had  just 
scampered  off  East  and  three  or  four  others  of 
his  own  particular  set,  bound  for  some  jolly  lark 
not  quite  according  to  law,  and  involving  prob- 
ably a  row  with  louts,  keepers,  or  farm-labourers, 
the  skipping  dinner  or  calling-over,  some  of 
Phoebe  Jennings's  beer,  and  a  very  possible  flog- 
ging at  the  end  of  all  as  a  relish.    He  had  quite  got 


68 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR, 


over  the  stage  in  wliicli  lie  would  grumble  to 
himself,  "  Well,  hang  it,  it's  very  hard  of  the 
Doctor  to  have  saddled  me  with  Arthur.  Why 
couldn't  he  have  chummed  him  with  Fogey,  or 
Thomkin,  or  any  of  the  fellows  who  never  do 
anything  but  walk  round  the  close,  and  finish 
their  copies  the  first  day  they're  set  ?  But  al- 
though all  this  was  past,  he  often  longed,  and 
felt  that  he  was  right  in  longing,  for  more  time 
for  the  legitimate  pastimes  of  cricket,  fives, 
bathing,  and  fishing  within  bounds,  in  which 
Arthur  could  not  yet  be  his  companion;  and 
he  felt  that  when  the  young'un  (as  he  now  gen- 
erally called  him)  had  found  a  pursuit  and  some 
other  friend  for  himself,  he  should  be  able  to 
give  more  time  to  the  education  of  his  own  body 
with  a  clear  conscience.  h 

And  now  what  he  so  wished  for  had  come 
to  pass ;  he  almost  hailed  it  as  a  special  provi- 
dence, (as  indeed  it  was,  but  not  for  the  reasons 
he  gave  for  it — what  providences  are  ?)  that 
Arthur  should  have  singled  out  Martin  of  all 
fellows,  for  a  friend.  ''The  old  madman  is  the 
very  fellow,"  thought  he;  "he  will  take  him 
scrambling  over  half  the  country  after  birds* 
eggs  and  flowers,  make  him  run  and  swim  and 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  69 

climb  like  an  Indian,  and  not  teach  him  a  word 
of  any  thing  bad,  or  keep  him  from  his  lessons. 
What  luck  I"  And  so,  with  more  than  his 
usual  heartiness,  he  dived  into  his  cupboard, 
and  hauled  out  an  old  knuckle-bone  of  ham, 
and  two  or  three  bottles  of  beer,  together  with 
the  solemn  pewter,  only  used  on  state  occasions ; 
while  Arthur,  equally  elated  at  the  easy  accom- 
plishments of  his  first  act  of  violation  in  the 
joint  establishment,  produced  from  his  side  a 
bottle  of  pickles,  and  a  pot  of  jam,  and  cleared 
the  table.  In  a  minute  or  two  the  noise  of  the 
boys  coming  up  from  supper  was  heard,  and 
Martin  knocked  and  was  admitted,  bearing  his 
bread  and  cheese,  and  the  three  fell  to  with 
hearty  go'od  will  upon  the  viands,  talking  faster 
than  they  eat,  for  all  shyness  disappeared  in  a 
moment  before  Tom's  bottled-beer  and  hospitable 
ways.  "  Here's  Arthur,  a  regular  young  town- 
mouse,  with  a  natural  taste  for  the  woods,  Mar- 
tin, longing  to  break  his  neck  climbing  trees,  and 
with  a  passion  for  young  snakes." 

"  Well  I  say,"  sputtered  out  Martin  eagerly, 
''will  you  come  to-morrow,  both  of  you,  to 
Caldecott's  Spinney  then,  for  I  know  of  a  kes- 
trel's nest,  up  a  fir  tree — I  can't  get  at  it  without 


10  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

help ;  and,  Brown,  you  can  climb  against  any 
one." 

"  0  yes,  do  let  ns  go,"  said  Arthur ;  I  never 
saw  a  hawk's  nest  or  a  hawk's  egg^ 

"You  just  come  down  to  my  study  then,  and 
I'll  show  you  five  sorts,"  said  Martin. 

"  Aye,  the  Old  madman  has  got  the  best  collec- 
tion in  the  house,  out-and-out,"  said  Tom ;  and 
then  Martin,  warming  with  unaccustomed  good 
cheer  and  the  chance  of  a  convert,  launched 
out  into  a  proposed  birds'-nesting  campaign,  be- 
traying all  manner  of  important  secrets ;  a  gol- 
den-crested wren's  nest  near  Butlin's  Mound,  a 
moor-hen  who  was  sitting  on  fourteen  eggs  in  a 
pond  down  the  Barbyroad,  and  a  kingfisher's 
nest  in  a  corner  of  the  old  canal  abova  Browns- 
over  Mill.  He  had  heard,  he  said,  that  no  one 
had  ever  got  a  kingfisher's  nest  out  perfect,  and 
that  the  Brtish  Museum,  or  the  Government,  or 
somebody,  had  offered  £100  to  any  one  who 
could  bring  them  a  nest  and  eggs  not  damaged. 
In  the  middle  of  which  astounding  announce- 
ment, to  which  the  others  were  listening  with 
open  ears,  and  already  considering  the  applica- 
tion of  the  £100,  a  knock  came  to  the  door,  and 
East's  voice  was  heard  craving  admittance. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  71 

''There's  Harry,"  said  Tom,  "  we'll  let  him  in — 
I'll  keep  him  steady,  Martin.  I  thought  the  old 
boy  would  smell  out  the  supper. 

The  fact  was,  that  Tom's  heart  tad  already 
smitten  him,  for  not  asking  his  '  fidus  Achates ' 
to  the  feast,  although  only  an  extempore  affair; 
and  though  prudence  and  the  desire  to  get  Mar- 
tin and  Arthur  together  alone  at  first,  had  over- 
come his  scruples,  he  was  now  heartily  glad  to 
open  the  door,  broach  another  bottle  of  beer, 
and  hand  over  the  old  ham-knuckle  to  the  search- 
ing of  his  old  friend's  pocketknife. 

''  Ah,  you  greedy  vagabonds,"  said  East,  with 
his  mouth  full,  "  I  knew  there  was  something 
going  on,  when  I  saw  you  cut  off  out  of  the 
hall  so  quick  with  your  suppers.  What  a  stun- 
ning tap,  Tom !  you  are  a  wunner  for  bottling 
the  swipes." 

"  I've  had  practice  enough  for  the  sixth  in  my 
time,  and  it's  hard  if  I  haven^t  picked  up  a 
wrinkle  or  two  for  my  own  benefit." 
.  "  Well  old  madman,  and  how  goes  the  birds'- 
nesting  campaign?  How's  Howlet.  I  expect 
the  young  rooks'll  be  out  in  another  fortnight, 
and  then  my  turn  comes." 

''There'll  be  no  young  rooks  fit  for  pies  for  a 


12  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

month  yet ;  shows  how  much  you  know  about 
it,"  rejoined  Martin,  who,  though  very  good 
friends  with  East,  regarded  him  with  considera- 
ble suspicicfh  for  his  propensity  in  practical 
jokes. 

"  Scud  knows  nothing  and  cares  for  nothing 
but  grub  and  mischief,"  said  Tom ;  *'  but  young 
rook  pie,  'specially  when  you've  had  to  climb 
for  them,  is  very  pretty  eating.  However,  I  say. 
Scud,  we're  all  going  after  a  hawk's  nest  to- 
morrow, in  Caldecott's  Spinney,  and  if  you'll 
come  and  behave  yourself,  we'll  have  a  stunning 
climb." 

"  And  a  bathe  in  Aganippe,  Hooray !  I'm 
your  man." 

No,  no ;  no  bathing  in  Aganippe ;  that's  where 
our  betters  go." 

"Well,  well,  never  mind.  I'm  for  the  kawk's 
nest  and  anything  that  turns  up." 

And  the  bottled-beer  being  finished,  and  his 
hunger  appeased,  East  departed  to  his  study, 
'Hhat  sneak  Jones,"  as  he  informed  them,  who 
had  just  got  into  the  sixth  and  occupied  the 
next  study,  having  instituted  a  nightly  visitation 
upon  East  and  his  chum,  to  their  no  small  dis- 
comfort. 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  73 

When  he  was  gone,  Martin  rose  to  follow,  but 
Tom  stopped  him.  "No  one  goes  near  New 
Eow,"  said  he,  "so  you  may  just  as  well  stop  here 
and  do  your  verses,  and  then  we'll  have  some 
more  talk.  We'll  be  no  end  quiet;  besides  no 
priTeposter  comes  here  now — we  haven't  been 
visited  once  this  half." 

So  the  table  was  cleared,  the  cloth  restored, 
and  the  three  fell  to  work  with  Gradus  and  dic- 
tionary upon  the  morning's  vulgus. 

They  were  three  very  fair  examples  of  the 
way  in  which  such  tasks  were  done  at  Rugby, 
in  the  consulship  of  Plancus.  And  doubtless 
the  method  is  little  changed,  for  there  is  nothing 
new  under  the  sun,  especially  at  schools. 

Now  be  it  known  unto  all  you  boys  who  are  at 
schools  which  do  not  rejoice  in  the  time-honoured 
institution  of  the  vulgus,  (commonly  supposed 
to  have  been  established  by  William  of  Wyke- 
ham  at  Winchester,  and  imported  to  Rugby  by 
Arnold,  more  for  the  sake  of  the  lines  which  were 
learnt  by  heart  with  it,  than  for  its  intrinsic  value, 
as  I've  always  understood,)  that  it  is  a  short  ex- 
ercise, in  Greek  or  Latin  verse,  on  a  given  sub- 
ject, the  minimum  number  of  lines  being  fixed 
for  each  form.     The  master  of  the  form  gave  out 


*li  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

at  fourth  lesson  on  the  previous  day  the  subject 
for  next  morning's  vulgus,  and  at  first  lesson 
each  boy  had  to  bring  his  vulgus  ready  to  be 
looked  over ;  and  with  the  vulgus,  a  certain 
number  of  lines  from  one  of  the  Latin  or  Greek 
poets,  then  being  construed  in  the  form,  had  to 
be  got  by  heart.  The  master  at  first  lesson, 
called  up  each  boy  in  the  form  in  order,  and  put 
him  on  in  the  lines.  If  he  couldn't  say  them, 
or  seem  to  say  them,  by  reading  them  off  the 
master's  or  some  other  boy's  book  who  stood 
near,  he  was  sent  back,  and  went  below  all  the 
boys  who  did  so  say  or  seem  to  say  them ;  but 
m  either  case  his  vulgus  was  looked  over  by  the 
master,  who  gave  and  entered  in  his  book,  to  the 
credit  or  discredit  o^  the  boy,  so  many  marks 
as  the  composition  merited.  At  Eugby,  vulgus 
and  lines  were  the  first  lesson  every  other  day 
in  the  week,  on  Tuesdays,  Thursdays,  and  Sat- 
urdays; and  as  there  were  thirty-eight  weeks 
in  the  school  year,  it  is  obvious  to  the  meanest 
capacity  that  the  master  of  each  form  had  to  set 
one  hundred  and  fourteen  subjects  every  year, 
two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  every  two  years, 
and  so  on.  Now  to  persons  of  moderate  inven- 
tion this  was  a  considerable  task,  and  human 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  t5 

nature  being  prone  to  repeat  itself,  it  will  not 
be  wondered  that  the  masters  gave  the  same  , 
subjects  sometimes  over  again  after  a  certain 
lapse  of  time.  To  meet  and  rebuke  this  bad 
habit  of  the  masters,  the  school-boy  mind,  with 
its  accustomed  ingenuity,  had  invented  an  elab- 
orate system  of  tradition.  Almost  every  boy 
kept  his  own  vnlgus  written  out  in  a  book,  and 
these  books  were  duly  handed  down  from  boy 
to  boy,  till  (if  the  tradition  has  gone  on  till 
now)  I  suppose  the  popular  boys,  in  whose 
hands  bequeathed  vulgus-books  have  accumula- 
ted, are  prepared  with  three  or  four  vulguses 
on  any  subject  in  heaven  or  earth,  or  in  "more 
worlds  than  one, "  which  an  unfortunate  master 
can  pitch  upon.  At  any  rate,  such  lucky  fellows 
generally  had  one  for  themselves  and  one  for  a 
friend  in  my  time.  The  only  objection  to  the 
traditionary  method  of  doing  your  vulgus  was, 
the  risk  that  the  successions  might  have  become 
confused,  and  so  that  you  and  another  follower 
of  tradition  should  show  up  the  same  identical 
vulsrus  some  fine  morninsr,  in  which  case,  when 
it  happened,  considerable  grief  was  the  result — 
but  when  did  such  risks  hinder  boys  or  men 
from  short  cuts  and  pleasant  paths? 


76 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 


Now  in  the  study  that  night,  Tom  was  the  up- 
holder of  the  traditionary  method  of  vulgus 
doing.  He  carefully  produced  two  large  vulgus- 
books,  and  began  diving  into  them,  and  picking 
out  a  line  here,  and  an  ending  there  (tags  as 
they  were  vulgarly  called,)  till  he  had  gotten 
all  that  he  thought  he  could  make  fit.  He  then 
proceeded  to  patch  his  tags  together  with  the 
help  of  his  Gradus,  producing  an  incongruous 
and  feeble  result  of  eight  elegiac  lines,  the 
minimum  quantity  for  his  form,  and  finishing 
up  with  two  highly  moral  lines  extra,  making 
ten  in  all,  which  he  cribbed  entire  from  one  of  his 
books,  beginning  "O  genus  humanum,"  and 
which  he  himself  must  have  used  a  dozen  times 
before,  whenever  an  unfortunate  or  wicked  hero, 
of  whatever  nation  or  language  under  the  sun, 
w^as  the  subject.  Indeed  he  began  to  have  great 
doubts  whether  the  master  wouldn't  remember 
them,  and  so  only  threw  them  in  as  extra  lines, 
because  in  any  case  they  would  call  off'  attention 
from  the  other  tags,  and  if  detected,  being  extra 
lines,  he  wouldn't  be  sent  back  to  do  two  more 
in  their  place,  while  if  they  passed  muster  again 
he  would  get  marks  for  them. 

The  second  method,  pursued  by  Martin,  may 


BllOWN   AND   ARTHUR.  Yt 

be  called  the  dogged,  or  prosaic  method.  He, 
no  more  than  Tom,  took  any  pleasure  in  the 
task,  but  having  no  old  vulgus-books  of  his  own 
or  any  one's  else,  could  not  follow  the  tradition- 
ary method,  for  which,  too,  as  Tom  remarked, 
he  hadn't  the  genius.  Martin  then  proceeded 
to  write  down  eight  lines  in  English,  of  the  most 
matter-of-fact  kind,  the  first  that  came  into  his 
head ;  and  to  convert  these,  line  by  line,  by  main 
force  of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  into  Latin  that 
would  scan.  This  was  all  he  cared  for,  to  pro- 
duce eight  lines  with  no  false  quantities  or  con- 
cords: whether  the  words  were  apt,  or  what  the 
sense  was,  mattered  nothing;  and,  as  the  article 
was  all  new,  not  a  line  beyond  the  minimum  did 
the  followers  of  the  dogged  method  ever  produce. 
The  third,  or  artistic  method,  was  Arthur's. 
He  considered  first  what  point  in  the  character 
or  event  which  was  the  subject  could  most  neatly 
be  brought  out  within  the  limits  of  a  vulgus, 
trying  always  to  get  his  idea  into  the  eight  lines, 
but  not  binding  himself  to  ten  or  even  twelve 
lines  if  he  couldn't  do  this.  He  then  set  to 
work,  as  much  as  possible  without  Gradus  or 
other  help,  to  clothe  his  idea  in  appropriate 
Latin  or  Greek,  and  would  not  be  satisfied  till 


Y8  BROWN    AM)    ARTHUR. 

he  had  polished  it  well  up  Avith  the  aptest  and 
most  poetic  words  and  phrases  he  could  get  at. 

A  fourth  method  indeed  was  in  use  in  the 
school,  but  of  too  simple  a  kind  to  require  de- 
scription. It  may  be  called  the  vicarious  method, 
obtained  amongst  big  boys  of  lazy  or  bully- 
ing habits,  and  consisted  simply  in  making 
clever  boys  whom  they  could  thrash,  do  their 
whole  vulgus  for  them,  and  construe  it  to  them 
afterwards;  which  latter  is  a  method  not  to  be 
encouraged,  and  which  I  strongly  advise  you 
all  not  to  practice.  Of  the  others  you  will  find 
the  traditionary  most  troublesome,  unless  you 
can  steal  your  vulguses  whole  (experto  crede) 
and  that  the  artistic  method  pays  the  best,  both 
in  marks  and  other  ways. 

The  vulguses  being  finished  by  nine  o'clock, 
and  Martin  having  rejoiced  above  measure  in 
the  abundance  of  light,  and  of  Gradus  and  dic- 
tionary, and  other  conveniences  almost  unknown 
to  him  for  getting  through  the  work,  and  having 
been  pressed  by  Arthur  to  come  and  do  his  verses 
there  whenever  he  liked,  the  three  boys  went 
down  to  Martin's  den,  and  Arthur  was  initiated 
into  the  lore  of  birds'  eggs  to  his  great  delight. 
The  exquisite  colouring  and  forms  astonished 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  19 

and  cliarmed  him  who  had  scarcely  ever  seen 
any  but  a  hen's  egg  or  an  ostrich's,  and  by  the 
time  he  was  lugged  away  to  bed  he  had  learned 
the  names  of  at  least  twenty  sorts,  and  dreamt 
of  the  glorious  perils  of  tree-climbing,  and  that 
he  had  found  a  roc's  egg  in  the  island  as  big  as 
Sinbad's,  and  clouded  like  a  tit-lark's  in  blowing 
which,  Martin  and  he  had  nearly  been  drowned 
in  the  yolk. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FEVER  IN   THE   SCHOOL. 

'This  our  hope  for  all  that's  mortal, 

And  we  too  shall  burst  the  bond  ; 
Death  keeps  watch  beside  the  portal, 

But  'tis  life  that  dwells  beyond." 

John  Stkrmno. 

Two  years  have  passed  since  the  events  re- 
corded in  the  last  chapter,  and  the  end  of  the 
summer  half-year  is  again  drawing  on.  Martin 
has  left  and  gone  on  a  cruise  in  the  South  Paci- 
fic; in  one  of  his  uncle's  ships  ;  the  old  magpie, 
as  disreputable  as  ever,  his  last  bequest  to  Ar- 
thur, lives  in  the  joint  study.  Arthur  is  nearly 
sixteen,  and  at  the  head  of  the  twenty,  having 
gone  up  the  school  at  the  rate  of  a  form  a  half- 
year.  East  and  Tom  have  been  much  more  de- 
liberate in  their  progress,  and  are  only  a  little 
way  up  the  fifth  form.  Great  strapping  boys 
they  are,  but  still  thorough  boys,  filling  about 
the  same  place  in  the  house  that  young  Brooke 
filled  when  they  were  new  boys,  and  much  the 

same  sort  of  fellows.     Constant  intercourse  with 
80 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  81 

Arthur  has  done  much  for  both  of  them,  espe- 
cially for  Tom ;  but  much  remains  yet  to  be  done, 
if  they  are  to  get  all  the  good  out  of  Rugby 
which  is  to  be  got  there  in  these  times.  Arthur 
is  still  frail  and  delicate,  with  more  spirit  than 
body;  but  thanks  to  his  intimacy  with  Tom  and 
Martin,  has  learned  to  swim,  and  run,  and  play 
cricket,  and  has  never  hurt  himself  by  too  much 
reading. 

One  evening  as  they  were  all  sitting  down  to 
supper  in  the  fifth-form  room,  some  one  started 
a  report  that  a  fever  had  broken  out  at  one  of 
the  boarding-houses;  "they  say,"  he  added,  "that 
Thompson  is  very  ill,  and  that  Dr.  Robertson 
has  been  sent  for  from  Northampton." 

"Then  we  shall  all  be  sent  home,"  cried  an- 
other. "Hurrah!  five  weeks'  extra  holidays, 
and  no  fifth-form  examination !" 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Tom;  "there'll  be  no 
Marylebone  match  then  at  the  end  of  the  half." 

Some  thought  one  thing,  some  another,  many 
didn't  believe  the  report;  but  the  next  day, 
Tuesday,  Dr.  Robertson  arrived,  and  stayed  all 
day,  and  had  long  conferences  with  the  Doctor. 

On  "Wednesday  morning,  after  prayers,  the 
Doctor  addressed  the  whole  school.     There  were 


82  BROWN    AND   ARTHUE. 

several  cases  of  fever  in  different  houses,  lie  said, 
but  Dr.  Eobertson  after  the  most  careful  exami- 
nation had  assured  him  that  it  was  not  infectious, 
and  that  if  proper  care  were  taken  there  could 
be  no  reason  for  stopping  the  school  work  at 
present.  The  examinations  were  just  coming 
on,  and  it  would  be  very  unadvisable  to  break 
up  now.  However,  any  boys  who  chose  to  do 
so  were  at  liberty  to  write  home,  and,  if  their 
parents  wished  it,  to  leave  at  once.  He  should 
send  the  whole  school  home  if  the  fever  spread. 

The  next  day  Arthur  sickened,  but  there  was 
no  other  case.  Before  the  end  of  the  week 
thirty  or  forty  boys  had  gone,  but  the  rest  stayed 
on.  There  was  a  general  wish  to  please  the 
Doctor,  and  a  feeling  that  it  was  cowardly  to 
run  away. 

On  the  Saturday  Thompson  died,  in  the  bright 
afternoon,  while  the  cricket-match  was  going  on 
as  usual  on  the  big-side  ground;  the  Doctor, 
coming  from  his  death-bed,  passed  along  the 
gravel-walk  at  the  side  of  the  close,  but  no  one 
knew  what  had  happened  till  the  next  day. 
At  morning  lecture  it  began  to  be  rumored,  and 
by  afternoon  chapel  was  known  generally  ;  and 
a  feeling  of  seriousness  and  awe  at  the  actual 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  83 

presence  of  death  among  them,  came  over  the 
whole  school.  In  all  the  long  years  of  his  min- 
istry the  Doctor  perhaps  never  spoke  words 
which  sank  deeper  than  some  of  those  in  that 
day's  sermon.  "  When  I  came  yesterday  from 
visiting  all  but  the  very  death-bed  of  him  who 
has  been  taken  from  us,  and  looked  around  upon 
all  the  familiar  objects  and  scenes  within  our 
own  ground,  where  your  common  amusements 
were  going  on,  with  your  common  cheerfulness 
and  activity,  I  felt  there  was  nothing  painful  in 
witnessing  that ;  it  did  not  seem  in  any  way  shock- 
ing or  out  of  tune  with  those  feelings  which  the 
sight  of  a  dying  Christian  must  be  supposed  to 
awaken.  The  unsuitableness  in  point  of  natural 
feeling  between  scenes  of  mourning  and  scenes  of 
liveliness  did  not  at  all  present  itself.  But  I  did 
feel  that  if  at  that  moment  any  of  those  faults  had 
been  brought  before  me  which  sometimes  occur 
amongst  us  ;  had  I  heard  that  any  of  you  had 
been  guilty  of  falsehood,  or  of  drunkenness,  or 
of  any  other  such  sin ;  had  I  heard  from  any 
quarter  the  language^of  profaneness,  or  of  un- 
kindness,  or  of  indecency ;  had  I  heard  or  seen 
any  signs  of  that  wretched  folly,  which  courts 
the  laugh  of  fools  by  affecting  not  to  dread  evil 


S4  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

and  not  to  care  for  good,  then  the  unsuitableness 
of  any  of  these  things  with  the  scene  I  had  just 
quitted  would  indeed  have  been  most  intensely- 
painful.  And  why  ?  Not  because  such  things 
would  really  have  been  worse  than  at  any  other 
time,  but  because  at  such  a  moment  the  eyes  are 
opened  really  to  know  good  and  evil,  because 
we  then  feel  what  it  is  so  to  live  as  that  death 
becomes  an  infinite  blessing,  and  what  it  is  so  to 
live  also,  that  it  were  good  for  us  if  we  had 
never  been  born. 

Tom  had  gone  into  the  chapel  in  sickening 
anxiety  about  Arthur,  but  he  came  out  cheered 
and  strengthened  by  those  grand  words,  and 
walked  up  alone  to  their  study.  And  when  he  sat 
down  and  looked  round,  and  saw  Arthur's  straw- 
hat  and  cricket-jacket  hanging  on  their  pegs,  and 
marked  all  his  little  neat  arrangements,  not  one 
of  which  had  been  disturbed,  the  tears  indeed 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  but  they  were  calm  and 
blessed  tears,  and  he  repeated  to  himself,  ''Yes, 
Geordie's  eyes  are  opened — he  knows  what  it  is 
so  to  live  as  that  death  becomes  an  infinite  bless- 
ing. But  do  I  ?  Oh  God,  can  I  bear  to  lose 
him? 

The  week  passed  mournfully  away.     No  more 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  85 

boys  sickened,  but  Arthur  was  reported  worse 
each  day,  and  his  mother  arrived  early  in  the 
week.  Tom  made  many  appeals  to  be  allowed  to 
see  him,  and  several  times  tried  to  get  up  to  the 
sick-room ;  but  the  housekeeper  was  always  in 
the  way,  and  at  last  spoke  to  the  Doctor,  who 
kindly,  but  peremptorily  forbade  him. 

FROM   STANLEY'S  LIFE  OF  ARNOLD. 

It  was  after  a  season  of  sickness  of  this  kind,  that  Dr. 
Arnold  returning  one  morning  from  the  death-bed  of  one 
of  the  boys,  was  much  troubled  to  find  that  the  change 
in  his  feelings  from  attendance  on  this  bed  of  sickness 
and  death  had  been  very  great ;  he  thought  there  ought 
not  to  be  such  a  contrast,  and,  that  it  was  probably  owing 
to  the  school  work  not  being  sufficiently  sanctified  to 
God's  glory — that  if,  it  were  in  truth  a  religion  work,  the 
transition  to  it  from  a  death-bed  would  be  slight ;  he  there- 
fore intended  for  the  future  to  offer  an  especial  prayer  be- 
fore the  first  lesson,  that  the  day's  work  might  be  under- 
taken and  carried  on,  solely  to  the  glory  of  God  and  their 
improvements. 

The  subjoined  is  the  prayer,  used  ever  after, 
until  the  mournful  day  of  Dr.  Arnold's  death : — 

O  Lord,  who  by  Thy  Holy  Apostle  has  taught  us  to  do 
all  things  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  to  Thy 
glory,  give  Thy  blessing,  we  pray  Thee  to  this  our  daily 
work,  that  we  may  do  it  in  faith  and  heartily,  as  to  the 
Lord,  and  not  unto  men.  All  our  powers  of  body  and 
mind  are  thine,  and  we  would  fain  devote  them  to  Thy 
service.     Sanctify  them  and  the  work  in  which  they  are 


86  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

engaged ;  let  us  not  be  slothful,  but  fervent  in  spirit ;  and 
do  thou,  O  Lord,  so  bless  our  efforts,  that  they  may 
bring  forth  in  us  the  fruits  of  true  wisdom. 

Strengthen  the  faculties  of  our  minds,  and  dispose  us  to 
exert  them ;  but,  let  us  always  remember  to  exert  them 
for  Thy  glory,  and  save  us  from  all  pride  or  vanity,  or 
reliance  upon  our  own  powers  or  wisdom.  Teach  us  to 
seek  after  truth,  and  enable  us  to  gain  it ;  but  grant  that 
we  may  ever  speak  the  truth  in  love ;  that,  while  we  know 
earthly  things,  we  may  know  Thee,  and  be  known  by 
Thee,  in  and  through  Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Give  us  this 
day  Thy  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  may  be  thine  in  body  and 
in  spirit,  in  all  our  work  and  in  all  our  refreshments, 
through  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  Son,  Our  Lord.     Amen. 

Thompson  was  buried  on  the  Tuesday,  and 
the  burial  service;  so  soothing  and  grand  always, 
but  beyond  all  words  solemn  when  read  over  a 
boy's  grave  to  his  companions,  brought  Tom 
much  comfort,  and  many  strange  new  thoughts 
and  longings.  He  went  back  to  his  regular 
life,  and  played  cricket  and  bathed  as  usual: 
it  seemed  to  him  that  this  was  the  right  thing 
to  do,  and  the  new  thoughts  and  longings  be- 
came more  brave  and  healthy  for  the  effort. 
The  crisis  came  on  Saturday,  the  day  week  that 
Thompson  had  died ;  and  during  that  long  af- 
ternoon Tom  sat  in  his  study  reading  his  Bible, 
and  going  every  half-hour  to  the  housekeeper's 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  87 

room;  expecting  each  time  to  hear  that  the  gen- 
tle and  brave  little  spirit  had  gone  home.  But 
God  had  work  for  Arthur  to  do;  the  crisis 
passed — on  Sunday  evening  he  was  declared 
out  of  danger;  on  Monday  he  sent  a  message  to 
Tom  that  he  was  almost  well,  had  changed  his 
room,  and  was  to  be  allowed  to  see  him  the 
next  day. 

It  was  evening  when  the  housekeeper  sum- 
moned him  to  the  sick-room.  Arthur  was  lying 
on  the  sofa  by  the  open  window,  through  which 
the  rays  of  the  western  sun  stole  gently,  light- 
ing up  his  white  face  and  golden  hair.  Tom 
remembered  a  German  picture  of  an  angel  which 
he  knew ;  often  had  he  thought  how  transparent 
and  golden  and  spirit-like  it  was ;  and  he  shud- 
dered to  think  how  like  it  Arthur  looked,  and 
felt  a  shock  as  if  his  blood  had  all  stopped  short, 
as  he  realized  how  near  the  other  world  his 
friend  must  have  been  to  look  like  that.  Never 
till  that  moment  had  he  felt  how  his  little  chum 
had  twined  himself  round  his  heart-strings ;  and 
as  he  stole  gently  across  the  room,  and  knelt 
down,  and  put  his  arm  round  Arthur's  head  on 
the  pillow,  felt  ashamed  and  half  angry  at  his 
own  red  and  brown  face,  and  the   bounding 


88  BROWN    AND    AQTHUR. 

sense  of  health  and  power  which  filled  every 
fibre  of  his  body,  and  made  every  moment  of 
mere  living,  a  joy  to  him.  He  needn't  have 
troubled  himself,  it  was  this  very  strength  and 
power  so  different  from  his  own  which  drew 
Arthur  so  to  him. 

Arthur  laid  his  thin  white  hand,  on  which 
the  blue  veins  stood  out  so  plainly,  on  Tom's 
great  brown  fist,  and  smiled  at  him ;  and  then 
looked  out  of  the  window  again,  as  if  he  couldn't 
bear  to  lose  a  moment  of  the  sunset,  into  the' 
tops  of  the  great  feathery  elms,  round  which  the 
rooks  were  circling  and  clanging,  returned  in 
flocks  from  their  evening's  foraging  parties. 
The  elms  rustled,  the  sparrows  in  the  ivy  just 
outside  the  window  chirped  and  fluttered  about, 
quarrelling  and  making  it  up  again ;  the  rooks, 
young  and  old,  talked  in  chorus,  and  the  merry 
shouts  of  the  boys,  and  the  sweet  click  of  the 
cricket-bats,  came  up  cheerily  from  below. 

"Dear  George,"  said  Tom,  "  I  am  so  glad  to 
be  let  up  to  see  you  at  last.  I've  tried  hard  to 
come  so  often,  but  they  wouldn't  let  me  before." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  Tom ;  Mary  has  told  me  every 
day  about  you,  and  how  she  was  obliged  to 
make  the  Doctor  speak  to  you  to  keep  you  away. 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  89 

I'm  very  glad  you  didn't  get  up,  for  you  might 
have  caught  it,  and  you  couldn't  stand  being  ill 
with  all  the  matches  going  on.  And  you're  in 
the  eleven,  too,  I  hear — I'm  so  glad." 

"Yes,  ain't  it  jolly?"  said  Tom,  proudly; 
I'm  ninth  too.  I  made  forty  at  the  last  pie- 
match,  and  caught  three  fellows  out.  So  I  was 
put  in  above  Jones  and  Tucker.  Tucker's  so 
savage,  for  he  was  head  of  the  twenty -two. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  higher  yet," 
said  Arthur,  who  was  as  jealous  for  the  renown 
of  Tom  in  games,  as  Tom  was  for  his  as  a 
scholar. 

"Never  mind,  I  don't  care  about  cricket  or 
any  thing  now  you  are  getting  well,  Geordie ; 
and  I  shouldn't  have  been  hurt,  I  know,  if  they'd 
have  let  me  come  up, — nothing  hurts  me.  But 
you'll  get  about  now  directly,  won't  you?  You 
won't  believe  how  clean  I've  kept  the  study. 
All  your  things  are  just  as  you  left  them;  and  I 
feed  the  old  magpie  just  when  you  used,  though 
I  have  to  come  in  from  big-side  for  him,  the  old 
rip.  He  won't  look  pleased,  all  I  can  do,  and 
sticks  his  head  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the 
other,  and  blinks  at  me  before  he'll  begin  to  eat, 
till  I'm  half  inclined  to  box  his  ears.      And 


90  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

whenever  East  comes  in,  you  should  see  him 
hop  off  to  the  window,  dot  and  go  one,  though 
Harry  wouldn't  touch  a  feather  of  him  now." 

Arthur  laughed.  "  Old  Gravey  has  a  good 
memory,  he  can't  forget  the  sieges  of  poor  Mar- 
tin's den  in  old  times.  He  paused  a  moment 
and  then  went  on.  "  You  can't  think  how  often 
I've  been  thinking  of  old  Martin  since  I've  been 
ill ;  I  suppose  one's  mind  gets  restless,  and  likes 
to  wander  off  to  strange  unknown  places.  I 
wonder  what  queer  new  pets  the  old  boy  has 
got ;  how  he  must  be  revelling  in  the  thousand 
new  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes."  Tom  felt  a  pang 
of  jealousy,  but  kicked  it  out  in  a  moment. 
"Fancy  him  on  a  South-sea  island,  with  the 
Cherokees  or  Patagonians,  or  some  such  wild 
niggers ;"  (Tom's  ethnology  and  geography  were 
faulty,  but  sufficient  for  his  needs;)  ''they'll 
make  the  old  madman  cock  medicine-man,  and 
tattoo  him  all  over.  Perhaps  he's  cutting  about 
now  all  blue,  and  has  a  squaw  and  a  wigwam. 

He'll  improve  their  boomarangs,  and  be  able 
to  throw  them  too,  without  having  old  Thomas 
sent  after  him  by  the  Doctor  to  take  them  away." 

Arthur  laughed  at  the  remembrance  of  the 
boomarang  story,  but  then  looked  grave  again, 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  91 

and  said,  "  He'll  convert  all  the  Island,  I  know." 

"  Yes  if  he  don't  blow  it  up  first." 

"  Do  you  remember,  Tom,  how  you  and  East 
used  to  laugh  at  him  and  chaff  him,  because  he 
said  he  was  sure  the  rooks  all  had  calling-over, 
or  prayers,  or  something  of  the  sort,  when  the 
locking-up  bell  rang.  Well,  I  declare,"  said 
Arthur,  looking  up  seriously  into  Tom's  laugh- 
ing eyes,  ''  I  do  think  he  was  right.  Since  I've 
been  lying  here  I've  watched  them  every  night ; 
and  do  you  know  they  really  do  come  and  perch 
all  of  them  just  about  locking-up  time;  and  then 
first  there's  a  regular  chorus  of  caws,  and  then 
they  stop  a  bit,  and  one  old  fellow,  or  perhaps  two 
or  three  in  different  trees,  caw  solos,  and  then  off 
they  all  go  again,  fluttering  about  and  cawing 
any  how  till  they  roost." 

"I  wonder  if  the  old  blackies  do  talk?"  said 
Tom,  looking  up  at  them.  "How  they  must 
abuse  me  and  East,  and  pray  for  the  Doctor  for 
stopping  the  slinging." 

''There!  Iqok!  look!"  cried  Arthur,  ''don't 
you  see  the  old  fellow  without  a  tail  coming  up  ? 
Martin  used  to  call  him  'the  clerk.'  He  can't 
steer  himself.  You  never  saw  such"  fun  as  he  is 
in  a  high  wind,  when  he   can't  steer  himself 


92  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR, 

home,  and  gets  carried  right  past  the  trees,  and 
has  to  bear  up  again  and  again  before  he  can 
perch." 

The  locking-np  bell  began  to  toll,  and  the 
two  boys  were  silent  and  listened  to  it.  The 
sound  soon  carried  Tom  off  to  the  river  and  the 
woods,  and  he  began  to  go  over  in  his  mind  the 
many  occasions  on  which  he  had  heard  that 
toll  coming  faintly  down  the  breeze,  and  had  to 
pack  up  his  rod  in  a  hurry  and  make  a  run  for 
it,  to  get  in  before  the  gates  were  shut.  He  was 
roused  with  a  start  from  his  memories  by 
Arthur's  voice,  gentle  and  weak  from  his  late 
illness. 

"  Tom,  will  you  be  angry  if  I  talk  to  you 
very  seriously  ?" 

'^No,  dear  old  boy,  not  I.  But  ain't  you 
faint,  Arthur,  or  ill?  What  can  I  get  for  you? 
Don't  say  anything  to  hurt  yourself  now,  you 
are  very  weak  ;  let  me  come  up  again  ?" 

"NO;  no,  I  shan't  hurt  myself;  I'd  sooner 
speak  to  you  now,  if  you  don't  mind.  I've 
asked  Mary  to  tell  the  Doctor  that  you  are  with 
me,  so  you  needn't  go  down  to  calling-over ;  and 
I  mayn't  have  another  chance,  for  I  shall  most 
likely  have  to  go  home  for  change  of  air  to  get 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  93 

well,  and  mayn't  come  back  tliis  half."  ^ 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  you  must  go  away  before 
the  end  of  the  half?  I'm  so  sorry.  It's  more 
than  five  weeks  yet  to  the  holidays,  and  all  the 
fifth-form  examination  and  half  the  cricket 
matches  to  come  yet.  And  what  shall  I  do  all 
that  time  alone  in  our  study  ?  Why,  Arthur, 
it  will  be  more  than  twelve  weeks  before  I  see 
you  again.      Oh,  hang  it,  I    can't  stand  that. 

Besides  who's  to  keep  me  up  to  working  at 
the  examination  books  ?  I  shall  come  out  bot- 
tom of  the  form,  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs.' 

Tom  was  rattling  on,  half  in  joke,  half  in 
earnest,  for  he  wanted  to  get  Arthur  out  of  his 
serious  vein,  thinking  it  would  do  him  harm 
but  Arthur  broke  in —  ' 

"  Oh,  please  Tom,  stop,  or  you'll  drive  all  I 
had  to  say  out  of  my  head.  And  I'm  already 
horribly  afraid  I'm  going  to  make  you  angry.'' 

"Don't  gammon,  young'un,"  rejoined  Tom, 
(the  use  of  the  old  name,  dear  to  him  from  old 
recollections,  made  Arthur  start  and  smile,  and 
feel  quite  happy;)  "you  know  you  ain't  afraid 
and  you've  never  made  me  angry  since  the 
first  month  we  chummed  together.  Now  I'm 
going  to  be  quite  sober  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 


94  BROWN     AND   ARTHUR. 

whicli  is  more  tlian  I  am  once  in  a  year,  so 
make  the  most  of  it;  heave  ahead,  and  pitch 
into  me  right  and  left." 

Dear  Tom,  I  ain  t  going  to  pitch  into  you," 
said  Arthur  piteously ;  "  and  it  seems  so  cocky 
in  me  to  be  advising  you,  who've  been  my  back- 
bone ever  since  I've  been  at  Kugby,  and  have 
made  the  school  a  paradise  to  me.  Ah,  I  see  I 
shall  never  do  it,  unless  I  go  head-over-heels  at 
once,  as  you  said  when  you  taught  me  to  swim. 
Tom,  I  want  you  to  give  up  using  vulgus-books 
and  cribs." 

Arthur  sank  back  on  to  his  pillow  with  a 
sigh,  as  if  the  efifort  had  been  great ;  but  the 
worst  was  now  over,  and  he  looked  straight  at 
Tom,  who  was  evidently  taken  aback.  He 
leant  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  stuck  his 
hands  into  his  hair,  whistled  a  verse  of  Billy 
Taylor,  and  then  was  quite  silent  for  another 
minute.  Not  a  shade  crossed  his  face,  but  he 
was  clearly  puzzled.  At  last  he  looked  up  and 
caught  Arthur's  anxious  look,  took  his  hand, 
and  said  simply — 

"  Why,  young'un  ?" 

"Because  you're  the  honcstest  boy  in  Rugby, 
and  that  ain't  honest." 


BROWN    AND  ARTHUR.  95 

"I  don't  see  that." 

What  were  you  sent  to  Eugby  for?" 

"Well;  I  don't  know  exactly — nobody  ever 
told  me.  I  suppose  because  all  boys  are  sent  to 
a  public  school  in  England." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  yourself?  What  do 
you  want  to  do  here  and  to  carry  away?" 

Tom  thought  a  minute.  "I  want  to  be  A  1 
at  cricket  and  football,  and  all  the  other  games, 
and  to  make  my  hands  keep  my  head  against 
any  fellow,  lout  or  gentleman.  I  want  to  get 
into  the  sixth  before  I  leave,  and  please  the 
Doctor ;  and  I  want  to  carry  away  just  as  much 
Latin  and  Greek  as  will  take  me  through  Ox- 
ford respectably.  There  now,  young'un,  I  never 
thought  of  it  before,  but  that's  pretty  much  my 
figure.  Ain't  it  all  on  the  square?  What  have 
you  got  to  say  to  that  ?" 

"Why,  that  you're  pretty  sure  to  do  all  that 
you  want  then." 

"Well,  I  hope  so.  But  you've  forgot  one 
thing,  that  I  want  to  leave  behind  me.  I  want 
to  leave  behind  me,"  said  Tom,  speaking  slow 
and  looking  much  moved,  "the  name  of  a  fellow 
who  never  bullied  a  little  boy,  or  turned  his 
back  on  a  big  one." 


96  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

Arthur  pressed  his  haud,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  went  on:  ''You  say,  Tom,  you  want  to 
please  the  Doctor.  Now  do  you  want  to  please 
him  by  what  he  thinks  you  do,  or  by  what  you 
really  do?" 

"By  what  I  really  do,  of  course." 

"Does  he  think  you  use  cribs  and  vulgus- 
books?" 

Tom  felt  at  once  that  his  flank  was  turned, 
but  he  couldn't  give  in.  "He  was  at  Winchester 
himself,  said  he,  "  he  knows  all  about  it'.' 

"  Yes,  but  does  he  think  you  use  them  ?  Do 
you  think  he  approves  of  it?" 

''You  young  villain,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his 
fist  at  Arthur  half  vexed  and  halt  pleased,  "I 
never  think  about  it.  Hang  it — there,  perhaps 
he  don't.     Well,  I  suppose  he  don't." 

Arthur  saw  that  he  had  got  his  point;  he 
knew  his  friend  well,  and  was  wise  in  silence  as 
in  speech.  He  only  said,  "I  would  sooner  have 
the  Doctor's  good  opinion  of  me  as  I  really  am, 
than  any  man's  in  the  world." 

After  another  minute  Tom  besran  ae^ain: 
"Look  here,  young'un,  how  on  earth  am  I  to 
get  time  to  play  the  matches  this  half,  if  I  give 
up  cribs?     We're  in  the  middle  of  that  long 


I 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  91 

crabbed  choras  in  the  Agamemnon,  I  can  only 
just  make  bead  or  tail  of  it  with  the  crib.  Then 
there's  Pericles'  speech  coming  on  in  Thucydides, 
and  the  'Birds'  to  get  up  for  the  examination,  be- 
sides the  Tacitus.  Tom  groaned  at  the  thought 
of  his  accumulated  labours.  ''  I  say,  young'un, 
there's  only  five  weeks  or  so  left  to  holidays, 
mayn't  I  go  on  as  usual  for  this  half?  I'll  tell  the 
Doctor  about  it  some  day,  or  you  may." 

Arthur  looked  out  of  the  window ;  the  twi- 
light had  come  on  and  all  was  silent.  He  re- 
peated in  a  low  voice,  ''In  this  thing  the  Lord, 
pardon  thy  servant,  that  when  my  master  goeth 
into  the  house  of  Rimmon  to  worship  there,  and 
he  leaneth  on  my  hand,  and  I  bow  down  myself 
in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  the  Lord  pardon  thy 
servant  in  this  thing." 

Not  a  word  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  and 
the  boys  were  again  silent.  One  of  those  blessed 
short  silences,  in  which  the  resolves  which  colour 
a  life  are  so  often  taken. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  break  it.     "  You've  been 

very  ill  indeed,  haven't  you,  Geordie  ?"  said  he 

with  a  mixture  of  awe  and  curiosity,  feeling  as 

if  his  friend  had  been  in  some  strange  place  or 

scene,  of  which  he  could  form  no  idea,  and  full 
5e 


98  BROWN   AND   ARTIIL'R. 

of  tlie  memory  of  his  own  thoughts  during  the 
last  week. 

"  Yes,  ver}^  I'm  sure  the  Dcxjtor  thought  I 
was  going  to  die.  He  gave  me  the  Sacrament 
last  Sunday,  and  you  can't  think  what  he  is  when 
one  is  ill.  He  said  such  brave,  and  tender,  and 
gentle  things  to  me,  I  felt  quite  light  and  strong 
after  it,  and  never  had  any  more  fear.  My 
mother  brought  our  old  medical  man,  who  at- 
tended me  when  I  was  a  poor  sickly  child ;  he 
said  my  constitution  was  quite  changed,  and 
that '  I'm  fit  for  anything  now.  If  it  hadn't,  I 
couldn't  have  stood  three  days  of  this  illness. 
That's  all  thanks  to  you,  and  the  games  you've 
made  me  fond  of" 

"  More  thanks  to  old  Martin,"  said  Tom ;  "  he's 
been  your  real  friend." 

"ISTonsense,  Tom,  he  never  could  have  done 
for  me  what  you  have." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  I  did  little  enough.  Did 
they  tell  you — you  won't  mind  hea,ring  it  now, 
I  know — that  poor  Thompson  died  last  week  ? 
The  other  three  boys  are  getting  quite  round, 
like  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  of  it." 

Then   Tom,   who  was  quite  full  of  it,  told 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  99 

Arthur  of  tiie  burial  service  in  the  chapel,  and 
how  it  had  impressed  him,  and,  he  believed,  all 
the  other  boys.  "  And  though  the  Doctor  never 
said  a  word  about  it,"  said  he,  "  and  it  was  a 
half-holiday  and  match  day,  there  wasn't  a  game 
played  in  the  close  all  the  afternoon,  and  the 
boys  all  went  about  as  if  it  were  Sunday." 

"I'm  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Arthur.  "But, 
Tom,  I've  had  such  strange  thoughts  about  death 
lately.  I've  never  told  a  soul  of  them,  not  even 
my  mother.  Sometimes  I  think  they're  wrong,  but, 
do  you  know,  I  don't  think  in  my  heart  I  could 
be  very  sorry  at  the  death  of  any  of  my  friends." 

Tom  was  taken  quite  aback.  "What  in  the 
world  is  the  young'un  after  now,"  thought  he ; 
"  I've  swallowed  a  good  many  of  his  crotchets,  but 
this  altogether  beats  me.  He  can't  be  quite  right 
in  his  head."  He  didn't  want  to  say  a  word,  and 
shifted  about  uneasily  in  the  dark;  however, 
Arthur  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  an  answer,  so 
at  last  he  said,  "I  don't  think  I  quite  see  what 
you  mean,  Greordie.  One's  told  so  often  to  think 
about  death,  that  I've  tried  it  on  sometimes,  es- 
pecially this  last  week.  But  we  won't  talk  of  it 
now.  I'd  better  go — you're  getting  tired,  and  I 
shall  do  you  harm." 


100  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

"  No,  no,  indeed  I  ain't,  Tom ;  you  must  stop 
till  nine,  there's  only  twenty  minutes.  I've  set- 
tled you  shall  stop  till  nine.  And  oh !  do  let 
me  talk  to  you — I  must  talk  to  you.  I  see  it's 
just  as  I  feared.  You  think  I'm  half  mad — don't 
you  now  ?" 

"Well,  I  did  think  it  odd  what  you  said, 
Geordie,  as  you  ask  me." 

Arthur  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said 
quickly,  "I'll  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  At 
first,  when  I  was  sent  to  the  sick-room  and  found 
I  had  really  got  the  fever,  I  was  terribly  fright- 
ened. I  thought  I  should  die,  and  I  could  not 
face  it  for  a  moment.  I  don't  think  it  was  sheer 
cowardice  at  first,  but  I  thought  how  hard  it  was 
to  be  taken  away  from  my  mother  and  sisters  and 
you  all,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  see  my  way 
to  many  things,  and  to  feel  that  I  might  be  a 
man  and  do  a  man's  work.  To  die  without  hav- 
ing fought,  and  worked,  and  given  one's  life 
away,  was  too  hard  to  bear.  I  got  terribly  im- 
patient, and  accused  God  of  injustice,  and  strove 
to  justify  myself;  and  the  harder  I  strove  the 
deeper  I  sank.  Then  the  image  of  my  dear 
father  often  came  across  me,  but  I  turned  from 
it.     Whenever  it  came,  a  heavy  numbing  throb 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  101 

seemed  to  take  hold  of  my  heart,  and  say,  dead 
— dead — dead.  And  I  cried  out,  'The  living, 
the  living  shall  praise  Thee  0  God ;  the  dead  can- 
not praise  Thee.  There  is  no  work  in  the  grave; 
in  the  night  no  man  can  work.  But  I  can  work. 
I  can  do  great  things.  I  will  do  great  things. 
Why  wilt  thou  slay  me?"  And  so  I  struggled 
and  plunged,  deeper  and  deeper,  and  went  down 
into  a  living  black  tomb.  I  Avas  alone  there, 
with  no  power  to  stir  or  think;  alone  with 
myself;  beyond  the  reach  of  all  human  fel- 
lowship ;  beyond  Christ's  reach^  I  thought,  in 
my  nightmare.  You,  who  are  brave,  and  bright, 
and  strong,  can  have  no  idea  of  that  agony. 
Pray  to  God  you  never  may.  Pray  as  for  your 
life." 

Arthur  stopped — from  exhaustion,  Tom 
thought ;  but  what  between  his  fear  lest  Arthur 
should  hurt  himself,  his  awe,  and  longing  for 
him  to  go  on,  he  couldn't  ask  or  stir  to  help 
him. 

Presently  he  went  on,  but  quite  calm  and 
slow.  ''  I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  in  that 
state.  For  more  than  a  day  I  know,  for  I  was 
quite  conscious,  and  lived  my  outer  life  all  the 
time,  and  took  my  medicines,  and  spoke  to  my 


102  BROWN   AND   ARTHtFR. 

mother,  and  heard  what  they  said.  But  I  didn't 
take  much  note  of  time,  I  thought  time  was 
over  for  me,  and  that  that  tomb  was  what  was 
beyond.  Well,  on  last  Sunday  morning,  as  I 
seemed  to  lie  in  that  tomb,  alone,  as  I  thought, 
for  ever  and  ever,  the  black  dead  wall  was  cleft 
in  two,  and  I  was  caught  up  and  borne  through 
into  the  light  by  some  great  power,  some  living 
mighty  spirit.  Tom,  do  you  remember  the  liv- 
ing creatures  and  the  wheels  in  Ezekiel  ?  It 
was  just  like  that :  '  when  they  went  I  heard 
the  noise  of  their  wings,  like  the  noise  of  great 
waters,  as  the  voice  of  the  Almighty,  the  voice 
of  speech,  as  the  noise  of  an  host ;  when  they 
stood  they  let  down  their  wings' — 'and  they 
went  every  one  straight  forward ;  whither  the 
spirit  was  to  go  they  went,  and  they  turned  not 
when  they  went.'  And  we  rushed  through  the 
bright  air,  which  was  full  of  myriads  of  living 
creatures,  and  paused  on  the  brink  of  a  great 
river.  And  the  power  held  me  up,  and  I  knew 
that  that  great  river  was  the  grave,  and  death 
dwelt  there ;  but  not  the  death  I  had  met  in  the 
black  tomb,  that  I  felt  was  gone  forever.  For  on 
the  other  bank  of  the  great  river  I  saw  men 
and  women  and  children  rising  up  pure  and 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  103 

bright;  and  the  tears  were  wiped  from  their  eyes, 
and  they  put  on  glory  and  strength,  and  all 
weariness  and  pain  fell  away.  And  beyond 
were  a  multitude  which  no  man  conld  number, 
and  they  worked  at  some  great  work ;  and  they 
who  rose  from  the  river  went  on  and  joined  in 
the  work.  They  all  worked,  and  each  worked 
in  a  different  way,  but  all  at  the  same  work. 
And  I  saw  there  my  father,  and  the  men  in  the 
old  town  whom  I  knew  when  I  was  a  child ; 
many  a  hard  stern  man,  who  never  came  to 
church,  and  whom  they  called  atheist  and  infi. 
del.  There  they  were,  side  by  s-ide  with  my 
father,  whom  I  had  seen  toil  and  die  for  them, 
and  women  and  little  children,  and  the  seal  was 
on  the  foreheads  of  alL  And  I  longed  to  see 
what  the  work  was,  and  could  not ;  so  I  tried  to 
plunge  in  the  river,  for  I  thought  I  would  join 
them,  but  I  could  not.  Then  I  looked  about  to 
see  how  they  got  into  the  river.  And  this  I 
could  not  see,  but  I  saw  myriads  on  this  side, 
and  they  too  worked,  and  I  knew  that  it  was 
the  same  work ;  and  the  same  seal  was  on  their 
foreheads.  And  though  I  saw  that  there  was 
toil  and  anguish  in  the  work  of  these,  and  that 
most  that  were  working  were  blind  and  feeble, 


104  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

yet  I  longed  no  more  to  plunge  into  tlie  river, 
but  more  and  more  to  know  what  the  work  was. 
And  as  I  looked  I  saw  my  mother  and  mj-  sis- 
ters, and  I  saw  the  Doctor,  and  you,  Tom,  and 
hundreds  more  whom  I  knew ;  and  at  last  I  saw 
myself  too,  and  I  was  toiling  and  doing  ever  so 
little  a  piece  of  the  great  work.  Then  it  all 
melted  away,  and  the  power  left  me,  and  as  it 
left  me  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  say,  '  The 
vision  is  for  an  appointed  time ;  though  it  tarry, 
wait  for  it,  for  in  the  end  it  shall  speak  and  not 
lie,  it  shall  surely  come,  it  shall  not  tarry.'  It 
was  early  morning  I  know  then,  it  was  so  quiet 
and  cool,  and  my  mother  was  fast  asleep  in  the 
chair  by  my  bedside;  but  it  wasn't  only  a  dream 
of  mine.  I  know  it  wasn't  a  dream.  Then  I 
fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  only  woke  after  after- 
noon chapel ;  and  the  Doctor  came  and  gave  me 
the  Sacrament,  as  I  told  you.  I  told  him  and 
my  mother  I  should  get  well — I  knew  I  should ; 
but  I  couldn't  tell  them  why."  "Tom,  said 
Arthur,  gently,  after  another  minute,  "do  you 
see  why  I  could  not  grieve  now  to  see  my  dearest 
friend  die?  It  can't  be — it  isn't  all  fever  or 
illness.  God  would  never  have  let  me  see  it  so 
clear  if  it  wasn't  true.     I  don't  understand  it  all 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  105 

yet — it  will  take  me  my  life  and  longer  to  do 
tliat — to  find  out  what  the  work  is." 

When  Arthur  stopped,  there  was  a  long  pause. 
Tom  could  not  speak,  he  was  almost  afraid  to 
breathe,  lest  he  should  break  the  train  of  Arthur's 
thoughts.  He  longed, to  hear  more,  and  to  ask 
questions.  In  another  minute  nine  o'clock 
struck,  and  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door  called  them 
both  back  into  the  world  again.  They  did  not 
answer,  however,  for  a  moment,  and  so  the  door 
opened,  and  a  lady  came  in  carrying  a  candle. 

She  went  straight  to  the  sofa,  and  took  hold 
of  Arthur's  hand,  and  then  stooped  down  and 
kissed  him. 

"My  dearest  boy,  you  feel  a  little  feverish 
again.  Why  didn't  you  have  lights  ?  You've 
talked  too  much  and  excited  yourself  in  the  dark." 

''  Oh  no,  mother,  you  can't  think  how  well  -I 
feel.  I  shall  start  with  you  to-morrow  for  Devon- 
shire. But,  mother,  here's  my  friend,  here's  Tom 
Brown — you  know  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I've  known  him  for  years,"  she 
said,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Tom,  who  was 
now  standing  up  behind  the  sofa.  This  was 
Arthur's  mother.  Tall  and  slight  and  fair,  with 
masses  of  golden   hair   drawn   back  from  the 

5*E 


106  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

broad  white  forehead,  and  the  cahii  blue  eye 
meeting  his  so  deep  and  open — the  eye  that  he 
knew  so  well,  for  it  was  his  friend's  over  again, 
and  the  lovely  tender  mouth  that  trembled  while 
he  looked.  She  stood  there  a  woman  of  thirty- 
eight,  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  and  one 
whose  face  showed  the  lines  which  must  be 
written  on  the  faces  of  good  men's  wives  and 
widows — but  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing so  beautiful.  He  couldn't  help  wondering 
if  Arthur's  sisters  were  like  her. 

Tom  held  her  hand,  and  looked  straight  in 
her  face ;  he  could  neither  let  it  go  nor  speak. 

''Now,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  laughing,  ''where 
are  your  manners  ?  you'll  stare  my  mother  out 
of  countenance."  Tom  dropped  the  little  hand 
with  a  sigh.  "  There,  sit  down;  both  of  you. 
Here,  dearest  mother,  there's  room  here,"  and 
he  made  a  place  on  the  sofa  for  her.  "  Tom, 
you  needn't  go ;  I'm  sure  you  won't  be  called 
up  at  first  lesson."  Tom  felt  that  he  would  risk 
being  floored  at  every  lesson  for  the  rest  of  his 
natural  school-life,  sooner  than  go ;  so  he  sat 
down.  "And  now,"  said  Arthur,  "I  have  real- 
ized one  of  the  dearest  wishes  of  my  life — to  see 
you  two  together." 


BROWN   AND    ARTHUR.  107 

And  then  he  led  away  the  talk  to  their  home 
in  Devonshire,  and  the  red  bright  earth,  and  the 
deep  green  combes,  and  the  peat  streams  like 
cairn-gorm  pebbles,  and  the  wild  moor  with  its 
high  cloudy  Tors  for  a  giant  background  to  the 
picture — till  Tom  got  jealous,  and  stood  up  for 
the  clear  chalk  streams,  and  the  emerald  water 
meadows  and  great  elms  and  ^villows  of  the  dear 
old  Royal  county,  as  he  gloried  to  call  it.  And 
the  mother  sat,  quiet  and  loving,  rejoicing  in 
their  life.  The  quarter-to-ten  struck,  and  the 
bell  rang  for  bed,  before  they  had  well  begun 
their  talk  as  it  seemed. 

Then  Tom  rose  with  a  sigh  to  go. 
"Shall  I  see  you  in  the  morning,  Geordie?" 
said  he,  as  he  shook  his  friend's  hand.     "  Never 
mind  though,  you'll  be  back  next  half,  and  I 
shan't  forget  the  house  of  Rimmon." 

Arthur's  mother  got  up  and  walked  with  him 
to  the  door,  and  there  gave  him  her  hand  again, 
and  again  his  eyes  met  that  deep  loving  look, 
which  was  like  a  spell  upon  him.  Her  voice 
trembled  slightly  as  she  said  "Good  night — 
you  are  one  who  knows  lyhat  our  Father  has 
promised  to  the  friend  of  the  widow  and  the 


108  ErtOWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

fatherless.  May  He  deal  with  you  as  you  have 
dealt  with  me  and  mine !" 

Tom  was  quite  upset ;  he  mumbled,  something 
about  owing  every  thing  good  in  him  to  Geordie 
— looked  in  her  face  again,  pressed  her  hand  to 
his  lips,  and  rushed  down  stairs  to  his  study, 
where  he  sat  till  old  Thomas  came  kicking  at 
the  door,  to  tell  him  his  allowance  would  be 
stopped  if  he  didn't  go  off  to  bed.  (It  would 
have  been  stopped  anyhow,  but  that  he  was  a 
great  favourite  with  the  old  gentleman,  who  loved 
to  come  out  in  the  afternoons  into  the  close  to 
Tom's  wicket,  and  bowl  slow  twisters  to  him, 
and  talk  of  the  glories  of  by-gone  Surrey  heroes, 
with  whom  he  had  played  in  former  generations.) 
So  Tom  roused  himself  and  took  up  his  candle 
to  go  to  bed;  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  was 
aware  of  a  beautiful  new  fishing-rod,  with  old 
Eton's  mark  on  it,  and  a  splendidly  bound  Bible, 
which  lay  on  his  table,  on  the  title-page  of  which 
was  written — "Tom  Brown,  from  his  affection- 
ate and  grateful  friends,  Frances  Jane  Arthur ; 
George  Arthur." 

I  leave  you  all  to  guess  how  he  slept,  and  what 
he  dreamt  of 


/^^ 


CHAPTER    YI. 

HAEEY    east's    DILEMMAS   AND    DELIVEKANCES. 

"The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed, 
In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need — • 
Not  that  which  we  give,  but  that  we  share, 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare  : 
Who  bestows  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three. 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbour,  and  me." 

LOWELL— r/ie  Vision  of  Sir  Laun/al,  p.  11. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast,  Tom,  East, 
and  Gower  met  as  nsiial  to  learn  their  second 
lesson  together.  Tom  had  been  considering  how 
to  break  his  proposal  of  giving  up  the  crib  to 
the  others,  and  having  found  no  better  way  (as 
indeed  none  better  can  ever  be  found  by  man  or 
boy),  told  them  simply  what  had  happened ;  how 
he  had  been  to  see  Arthur,  who  had  talked  to 
him  upon  the  subject,  and  what  he  had  said,  and 
for  his  part  he  had  made  up  his  mind  and  wasn't 
going  to  use  cribs  any  more.  And  not  being 
quite  sure  of  his  ground,  took  the  high  and 
pathetic  tone,  and  was  proceeding  to  say,  "how 
that  having  learnt  his  lessons  with  them  for  so 
many  years,  it  would  grieve  him  much  to  put  an 
end  to  the  arrangement,  and  he  hoped  at  any 
109 


110  BROWN   AND   ARTIirR. 

rate  tliat  if  they  wouldn't  go  on  with  liim,  they 
should  still  be  just  as  good  friends,  and  respect 
one  another's  motives — but — " 

Here  the  other  boys,  who  had  been  listening 
with  open  eyes  and  ears,  burst  in — 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !"  cried  Gower.  ^^Here, 
East,  get  down  the  crib  and  find  the  place." 

"Oh,  Tommy,  Tommy!"  said  East,  proceed- 
ing to  do  as  he  was  bidden,  "  that  it  should  ever 
have  come  to  this.  I  knew  Authur  'd  be  the 
ruin  of  you  some  day,  and  you  of  me.  And  now 
the  time's  come" — and  he  made  a  doleful  face. 

'^I  don't  know  about  the  ruin,"  answered 
Tom;  ''I  know  that  you  and  I  would  have  had 
the  sack  long  ago,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him. 
And  you  know  it  as  well  as  I." 

"  Well,  we  were  in  a  baddish  way  before  he 
came,  I  own,  but  this  new  crotchet  of  his  is  past 
a  joke." 

"  Let's  give  it  a  trial,  Harry ;  come — you  know 
how  often  he  has  been  right  and  we  wrong." 

"Now  don't  you  two  be  jawing  away  about 
yoimg  Square-toes,"  struck  in  Gower.  "He's 
no  end  of  a  sucking  wiseacre,  I  dare  say,  but 
we've  no  time  to  lose,  and  I've  got  the  fives'- 
court  at  half-past  nine." 


'^ 


BROWN   AND  ARTHUR.  Ill 

"I  say,  Gower,"  said  Tom,  appealingly,  "be  a 
good  fellow,  and  let's  try  if  we  can't  get  on 
without  tlie  crib." 

"  What !  in  this  chorus  ?  Why  we  shan't  get 
through  ten  lines." 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  cried  East,  having  hit  on  a  new 
idea,  "don't  you  remember  when  we  were  in 
'  the  upper-fourth,  and  old  Momus  caught  me 
construing  off  the  leaf  of  a  crib  which  I'd  torn 
out  and  put  in  my  book,  and  which  would  float 
out  on  to  the  floor ;  he  sent  me  up  to  be  flogged 
for  it?" 

''  Yes,  I  remember  it  very  well." 

"Well,  the  Doctor,  after  he'd  flogged  me, 
told  me  himself  that  he  didn't  flog  me  for  using 
a  translation,  but  for  taking  it  into  lesson,  and 
using  it  there,  when  I  hadn't  learnt  a  word  be- 
fore I  came  in.  He  said  there  was  no  harm  in 
using  a  translation  to  get  a  clue  to  hard  passa- 
ges, if  you'd  tried  all  you  could  first  to  make 
them  out  without." 

"Did  he  though?"  said  Tom:  "then  Arthur 
must  be  wrong." 

"  Of  course  he  is,"  said  Grower,  "  the  little  prig. 
We'll  only  use  the  crib  when  we  can't  construe 
without  it.     Go  ahead,  East." 


112 


BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 


And  on  tliis  agreement  tliey  started.  Tom 
satisfied  with  having  made  his  confession,  and 
not  sorry  to  have  a  locus  poenitentice.,  and  not  to 
be  deprived  altogether  of  the  nse  of  his  old  and 
faithful  friend. 

The  boys  went  on  as  usual,  each  taking  a 
sentence  in  turn,  and  the  crib  being  handed  to 
the  one  whose  turn  it  was  to  construe.  Of  course 
Tom  couldn't  object  to  this,  as,  was  it  not  simply 
lying  there  to  be  appealed  to  in  case  the  sentence 
should  prove  too  hard  altogether  for  the  con- 
struer  ?  But  it  must  be  owned  that  Gower  and 
East  did  not  make  very  tremendous  exertions  fo 
conquer  their  sentences  before  having  recourse 
to  its  help.  Tom,  however,  with  the  most 
heroic  virtue  and  gallantry,  rushed  into  his  sen- 
tence, searching  in  a  high-minded  manner  for 
nominative  and  verb,  and  turning  over  his  dic- 
tionary frantically  for  the  first  hard  word  which 
stopped  him.  But  in  the  meantime,  Gower,  who 
was  bent  on  getting  to  fives,  would  peep  quietly 
into  the  crib,  and  then  suggest,  "  Don't  you  think 
this  is  the  meaning?"  *^I  think  you  must  take 
it  this  way,  Brown ;"  and  as  Tom  didn't  see  his 
way  to  not  profiting  by  these  suggestions,  the 
lesson  went  on  about  as  quickly  as  usual,  and 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR  113 

Gower  was  able  to  start  for  tlie  fives'-court 
within  five  minutes  of  the  half  hour. 

When  Tom  and  East  were  left  face  to  face, 
they  looked  at  one  another  for  a  minute,  Tom 
puzzled;  and  East  chock  full  of  fun,  and  then 
burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  Well,  Tom,"  said  East,  recovering  himself, 
"  I  don't  see  any  objection  to  the  new  way.  It's 
about  as  good  as  the  old  one,  I  think;  besides, 
the  advantage  it  gives  one  of  feeling  virtuous, 
and  looking  down  on  one's  neighbours." 

Tom  shoved  his  hand  into  his  back  hair.  I 
ain't  so  sure,"  said  he;  "you  two  fellows  carried 
me  off'  my  legs ;  I  don't  think  we  really  tried  one 
sentence  fairly.  Are  you  sure  you  remember 
what  the  Doctor  said  to  you  ?" 

"  Yes.  And  I'll  swear  I  couldn't  make  out 
one  of  my  sentences  to-day.  No,  nor  never 
could.  I  really  don't  remember,"  said  East, 
speaking  slowly  and  impressively,  "to  have 
come  across  one  Latin  or  Greek  sentence  this 
half  that  I  could  go  and  construe  by  the  light 
of  nature.  Whereby  I  am  sure  Providence  in- 
tended cribs  to  be  used." 

"  The  thing  to  find  out/'  said  Tom,  medita- 
tively, "is,  how  long  one  ought  to  grind  at  a 
e2 


114  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

sentence  witliout  looking  at  the  crib.  Now  I 
think  if  one  fairly  looks  out  all  the  words  one 
don't  knoW;  and  then  can't  hit  it,  that's  enough." 

"To  be  sure,  Tommy,"  said  East,  demurely, 
but  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "Your 
new  doctrine  too,  old  fellow,"  added  he,  "  when 
one  comes  to  think  of  it,  is  a  cutting  at  the  root 
of  all  school  morality.  You'll  take  away  mu- 
tual help,  brotherly  love,  or  in  the  vulgar  tongue 
giving  construes,  which  I  hold  to  be  one  of  our 
highest  virtues.  For  how  can  you  distinguish 
between  getting  a  construe  from  another  boy, 
and  using  a  crib?  Hang  it,  Tom,  if  you're 
going  to  deprive  all  our  school-fellows  of  the 
chance  of  exercising  Christian  benevolence  and 
being  good  Samaritans,  I  shall  cut  the  con- 
cern." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  joke  about  it,  Harry ; 
it's  hard  enough  to  see  one's  way,  a  precious 
sight  harder  than  I  thought  last  night.  But  I 
suppose  there's  a  use  and  an  abuse  of  both,  and 
one'll  get  straight  enough  somehow.  But  you 
can't  make  out  anyhow  that  one  has  a  right  to 
use  old  vulgus-books  and  copybooks." 

''Hullo,  more  heresy!  how  fast  a  fellow  goes 
down  hill  when  he  once  gets  his  head  before  his 


BRO\YN   AND   ARTHUR.  115 

legs.  Listen  to  me,  Tom.  Not  use  old  vulgus- 
books — why,  you  Goth!  ain't  we  to  take  the 
benefit  of  the  wisdom,  and  admire  and  use  the 
work  of  past  generations  ?  Not  use  old  copy- 
books !  "Why  you  might  as  well  say  we  ought 
to  pull  down  Westminster  Abbey,  and  put  up  a 
go-to-meeting  shop  with  churchwarden  windows ; 
or  never  read  Shakespeare,  but  only  Sheridan 
Knowles.  Think  of  all  the  work  and  labour 
that  our  predecessors  have  bestowed  on  these 
very  books,  and  are  we  to  make  their  work  of 
no  value? 

"I  say,  Harry,  please  don't  chaff;  I'm  really 
serious." 

''  And  then,  is  it  not  our  duty  to  consult  the 
pleasure  of  others  rather  than  our  own,  and 
above  all  that  of  our  masters  ?  Fancy  then  the 
difference  to  them  in  looking  over  a  vulgus 
which  has  been  carefully  touched  and  retouched 
by  themselves  and  others,  and  which  must  bring 
them  a  sort  of  dreamy  pleasure,  as  if  they'd  met 
the  thought  or  expression  of  it  somewhere  or 
another — before  they  were  born  perhaps;  and 
that  of  cutting  up,  and  making  picture-frames 
round  all  your  and  my  false  quantities,  and 
other  monstrosities.     Why,  Tom,  you  wouldn't 


116  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

be  so  cruel  as  never  to  let  old  Momiis  hum  over 
the  '0  genus  humanum'  again,  and  then  look 
up  doubtingly  through  his  spectacles,  and  end 
by  smiling  and  giving  three  extra  marks  for  it; 
just  for  old  sake's  sake,  I  suppose." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom  getting  up  in  something  as 
like  a  huff  as  he  was  capable  of,  "  it's  deuced 
hard  that  when  a  fellow's  really  trying  to  do 
what  he  ought,  his  best  friends'll  do  nothing  but 
chaff  him  and  try  to  put  him  down."  And  he 
stuck  his  books  under  his  arm  and  his  hat  on 
his  head,  preparatory  to  rushing  out  into  the 
quadrangle,  to  testify  with  his  own  soul  of  the 
faithlessness  of  friendships. 

"Now  don't  be  an  ass,  Tom,"  said  East,  catch- 
ing hold  of  him,  "you  know  me  well  enough  by 
this  time ;  my  bark's  worse  than  my  bite.  You, 
can't  expect  to  ride  your  new  crotchet  without 
anybody's  trying  to  stick  a  nettle  under  his  tail 
and  make  him  kick  you  off:  especially  as  we 
shall  all  have  to  go  on  foot  still.  But  now  sit 
down  and  let's  go  over  it  again.  I'll  be  as  seri- 
ous as  a  judge." 

Then  Tom  sat  himself  down  on  the  table,  andj 
waxed  eloquent  about  all  the  righteousness  andj 
advantages  of  the  new  plan,  as  vvas  his  wont 


BROWxN    AND   ARTHUR.  117 

whenever  he  took  up  any  thing;  going  into  it 
as  if  his  life  depended  upon  it,  and  sparing  no 
abuse  which  he  could  think  of,  of  the  opposite 
method,  which  he  denounced  as  ungentlemanly, 
cowardly,  mean,  lying,  and  no  one  knows  what 
besides.  "Very  cool  of  Tom,"  as  East  thought, 
but  didn't  say,  "  seeing  as  how  he  only  came  out 
of  Egypt  himself  last  night  at  bed-time." 

Well,  Tom,"  said  he  at  last,  "you  see  when 
you  and  I  came  to  school  there  were  none  of 
these  sort  of  notions.  You  may  be  right — I 
dare  say  you  are.  Only  what  one  has  always 
felt  about  the  masters  is,  that  it's  a  fair  trial  of 
skill,  and  last  between  us  and  them — like  a 
match  at  football,  or  a  battle.  We're  natural 
enemies  in  school,  that's  the  fact.  We've  got  to 
learn  so  much  Latin  and  Greek  and  do  so  many 
verses,  and  they've  got  to  see  that  we  do  it.  If 
we  can  slip  the  collar  and  do  so  much  less  with- 
out getting  caught,  that's  one  to  us.  If  they  can 
get  more  out  of  us,  or  catch  us  shirking,  that's 
one  to  them.  All's  fair  in  war,  but  lying.  If  I 
run  my  luck  against  their's  and  go  into  school 
without  looking  at  my  lesson,  and  don't  get 
called  up,  why  am  I  a  snob  or  a  sneak  ?  I  don't 
tell  the  master  I  have  learnt  it.     He's  got  to 


118  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

find  out  whether  I  have  or  not :  what's  he  paid 
for  ?  If  he  calls  me  up  and  I  get  floored,  he 
makes  me  write  it  out  in  Greek  and  English. 
Yery  good,  he's  caught  me,  and  I  don't  grumble, 
I  grant  you,  if  I  go  and  snivel  to  him,  and  tell 
him  I've  really  tried  to  learn  it  but  found  it  so 
hard  without  a  translation,  or  say  I've  had  a 
toothache  or  any  humbug  of  that  kind,  I'm  a 
snob.  That's  my  school  morality;  it's  served 
me,  and  you  too,  Tom,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
these  five  years.  And  its  all  clear  and  fair  no 
mistake  about  it.  We  understaand  it,  and  they 
understand  it,  and  I  don't  know  what  we're  to 
come  to  with  any  other. 

Tom  looked  at  him,  pleased,  and  a  little  puz- 
zled. He  had  never  heard  East  speak  his  mind 
seriously  before,  and  couldn't  help  feeling  how 
completely  he  had  hit  his  own  theory  and 
practice  up  to  that  time. 

"Thank  you,  old  fellow,"  said  he.  "You're  a 
good  old  brick  to  be  serious,  and  not  put  out 
with  me.  I  said  more  than  I  meant,  I  dare 
say,  only  you  see  I  know  I'm  right :  whatever 
you  and  Gower  and  the  rest  do,  I  shall  hold  on 
— I  must.     And  as  it's  all  new  and  an  up-hill 


BROWN    AND  ARTHUR.  119 

game,  you  see,  one  must  hit  hard  and  hold  on 
tight  at  first." 

'Very  good,"  said  East;  hold  on  and  hit  away 
only  don't  hit  under  the  line." 

''But  I  must  bring  you  over,  Harry,  or  I 
shan't  be  comfortable.  Now  I  allow  all  you've 
said.  We've  always  been  honorable  enemies 
with  the  masters.  We  found  a  state  of  war 
when  we  came,  and  went  into  it  of  course. 
Only  don't  you  think  things  are  altered  a  good 
deal?  I  don't  feel  as  I  used  to  the  masters. 
They  seem  to  me  to  treat  one  quite  differently." 

''Yes,  perhaps  they  do,"  said  East;  there's  a 
new  set  you  see,  mostly,  who  don't  feel  quite  sure 
of  themselves  yet.  They  don't  want  to  fight  till 
they  know  the  ground." 

"I  don't  think  it's  only  that,"  said  Tom. 
"And  then  the  Doctor,  he  does  treat  one  so 
openly,  and  like  a  gentleman,  and  as  if  one  was 
working  with  him." 

"  Well,  so  he  does,"  said  East ;  "  he's  a  splen- 
did fellow,  and  when  I  get  into  the  sixth  I  shall 
act  accordingly.  Only  you  know  he  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  our  lessons  now,  except  exam- 
ining us.  I  say  though,"  looking  at  his  watch, 
"it's  just  the  quarter.     Come  along." 


120  BROWN    AND   MITUUR. 

As  they  walked  out  they  got  a  message,  to  say 
'  that  Arthur  was  just  starting  and  would  like 
to  say  good-bye ;  so  they  went  down  to  the  pri- 
vate entrance  of  the  school-house,  and  found  an 
open  carriage,  with  Arthur  propped  up  wdth  pil- 
lows in  it,  looking  already  better,  Tom  thought. 

They  jumped  up  on  to  the  steps  to  shake 
hands  with  him,  and  Tom  mumbled  thanks  for 
the  presents  he  had  found  in  his  study,  and 
looked  round  anxiously  for  Arthur's  mother. 

East,  who  had  fallen  back  into  his  usual 
humour,  looked  quaintly  at  Arthur  and  said — 

"  So  you've  been  at  it  again,  through  that  hot- 
headed convert  of  yours  there.  He's  been 
making  our  lives  a  burthen  to  us  all  the  morning 
about  using  cribs.  I  shall  get  floored  to  a  cer- 
tainty at  second  lesson,  if  I'm  called  up." 

Arthur  blushed  and  looked  down.  Tom 
struck  in — 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right.  He's  converted  already ; 
he  always  comes  through  the  mud  after  us, 
grumbling  and  sputtering." 

The  clock  struck  and  they  had  to  go  off  to 
school,  wishing  Arthur  a  pleasant  holiday ;  Tom 
lingering  behind  a  moment  to  send  his  thanks 
and  love  to  Arthur's  mother. 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  121 

Tom  renewed  the  discussion  after  second  les- 
son, and  succeeded  so  far  as  to  get  East  to  pro- 
mise to  give  the  new  plan  a  fair  trial. 

Encouraged  by  his  success,  in  the  evening, 
when  they  were  sitting  alone  in  the  large  stud}'', 
where  East  lived  now  almost,  'vice  Arthur  on 
leave,'  after  examining  the  new  fishing-rod,  which 
both  pronounced  to  be  the  genuine  article,  ('play 
enough  to  throw  a  midge  tied  on  a  single  hair 
ao^ainst  the  wind,  and  strens:th  enous^h  to  hold 
a  grampus,')  they  naturally  began  talking  about 
Arthur.  Tom,  who  was  still  bubbling  over 
with  last  night's  scene  and  all  the  thoughts  of 
the  last  week,  and  wanting  to  clinch  and  fix  the 
whole  in  his  own  mind,  which  he  coald  never 
do  without  first  going  through  the  process  of 
belabouring  somebody  else  with  it  all,  suddenly 
rushed  into  the  subject  of  Arthur^s  illness,  and 
what  he  had  said  about  death. 

East  had  given  him  the  desired  opening,  after 

a  serio-comic  grumble,  "that  life  wasn't  worth 

having  now  they  were  tied  to  a  young  beggar 

who  was  always  'raising   his   standard;'   and 

that  he.  East,  was  like  a  prophet's  donkey,  who 

was  obliged  to  struggle  on  after  the  donkey-man 

who  went  after  the  prophet;  that  he  had  none 
6f 


122  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

of  tlie  pleasure  of  starting  the  new  crotchets, 
and  didn't  half  understand  them,  but  had  to 
take  the  kicks,  and  carry  the  luggage  as  if  he 
had  all  the  fun,"  he  threw  his  legs  up  on  to  the 
sofa,  and  put  his  hands  behind  his  head,  and 
said — 

''Well,  after  all,  he's  the  most  wonderful  little 
fellow  I  ever  came  across.  There  ain't  such  a 
meek,  humble  boy  in  the  school.  Hanged  if  I 
don't  think  now  really,  Tom,  that  he  believes 
himself  a  much  worse  fellow  than  you  or  I,  and 
that  he  don't  think  he  has  more  influence  in  the 
house  than  Dot  Bowles,  who  came  last  quarter, 
and  ain't  ten  yet.  But  he  turns  you  and  me 
round  his  little  finger,  old  boy — there's  no  mis- 
take about  that."  And  East  nodded  at  Tom 
sagaciously, 

''Now  or  never,"  thought  Tom;  so  shutting 
his  eyes  and  hardening  his  heart,  he  went  straight 
at  it,  repeating  all  that  Arthur  had  said,  as  near 
as  he  could  remember  it,  in  the  very  words,  and 
all  he  himself  had  thought.  The  life  seemed  to 
ooze  out  of  it  as  he  went  on,  and  several  times 
he  felt  inclined  to  stop,  give  it  all  up,  and  change 
the  subject.  But  somehow  he  was  borne  on;  he 
had  a  necessity  upon  him  to  speak  it  all  out, 


BROWN   AND   AUTHUR.  123 

and  did  so.  At  the  end  lie  looked  at  East  with 
some  anxiety,  and  was  delighted  to  see  that  that 
young  gentleman  was  thoughtful  and  attentive. 
The  fact  is,  that  in  the  stage  of  his  inner  life  at 
which  Tom  had  lately  arrived,  his  intimacy  with, 
and  friendship  for  East,  could  not  have  lasted  if 
he  had  not  made  him  aware  of,  and  a  sharer  in, 
the  thoughts  that  were  beginning  to  exercise 
him.  Nor  indeed  could  the  friendship  have 
lasted  if  East  had  shown  no  sympathy  with 
these  thoughts ;  so  that  it  was  a  great  relief  to 
have  unbosomed  himself,  and  to  have  found  that 
his  friend  could  listen. 

Tom  had  always  had  a  sort  of  instinct  that 
East's  levity  was  only  skin-deep,  and  this  instinct 
was  a  true  one.  East  had  no  want  of  reverence 
for  anything  he  felt  to  be  real ;  but  his  was  one 
of  those  natures  that  burst  into  what  is  gene- 
rally called  recklessness  and  impiety  the  moment 
they  feel  that  anything  is  being  poured  upon 
them  for  their  good,  which  does  not  come  home 
to  their  inborn  sense  of  right,  or  which  appeals 
to  anything  like  self-interest  in  them.  Daring 
and  honest  by  nature,  and  out -spoken  to  an  ex- 
tent which  alarmed  all  respectabilities,  with  a 
constant  fund  of  animal  health  and  spirits  which 


124  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

lie  did  not  feel  bound  to  curb  in  any  way,  lie 
had  gained  for  himself,  with  the  steady  part  of 
the  school,  (including  as  well  those  who  wished 
to  appear  steady  as  those  who  really  were  so,) 
the  character  of  a  boy  whom  it  would  be  dan- 
gerous to  be  intimate  with ;  while  his  own  hatred 
of  every  thing  cruel,  or  underhand,  or  false, 
and  his  hearty  respect  for  what  he  could  see  to 
be  good  and  true,  kept  off  the  rest.  / 

Tom,  besides  being  very  like  East  in  many 
points  of  character,  had  largely  developed  in  his 
composition  the  capacity  for  taking  the  weakest 
side.  This  is  not  putting  it  strongly  enough,  it 
was  a  necessity  with  him,  he  couldn't  help  it,  any 
more  than  he  could  eating  or  drinking.  He 
could  never  play  on  the  strongest  side  with  any 
heart  at  football  or  cricket,  and  was  sure  to 
make  friends  with  any  boy  who  was  unpopular, 
or  down  on  his  luck. 

Now,  though  East  was  not  what  is  generally 
called  unpopular,  Tom  felt  more  and  more  every 
day,  as  their  characters  developed,  that  he  stood 
alone,  and  did  not  make  friends  among  their 
contemporaries;  and  therefore  sought  him  out. 
Tom  was  himself  much  more  popular,  for  his 
power  of  detecting  humbug  was  much  less  acute, 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  125 

and  Ms  instincts  were  much  more  sociable.  He 
was  at  this  period  of  his  life,  too,  largely  given 
to  taking  people  for  what  they  gave  them- 
selves out  to  be;  but  his  singleness  of  heart, 
fearlessness,  and  honesty,  were  just  what  East 
appreciated,  and  thus  the  two  had  been  drawn 
into  great  intimacy. 

This  intimacy  had  not  been  interrupted  by 
Tom's  guardianship  of  Arthur. 

East  had  often,  as  has  been  said,  joined  them 
in  reading  the  Bible ;  but  their  discussions  had 
almost  always  turned  upon  the  characters  of  the 
men  and  w^omen  of  whom  they  read,  and  not 
become  personal  to  themselves.  In  fact,  the 
two  had  shrunk  from  personal,  religious  discus- 
sions, not  knowing  how  it  might  end ;  and  fear- 
ful of  risking  a  friendship  very  dear  to  both, 
and  which  they  felt  somehow,  without  quite 
knowing  why,  would  never  be  the  same,  but 
either  tenfold  stronger  or  sapped  at  its  founda- 
tion, after  such  a  communing  together. 

What  a  bother  all  this  explaining  is !  I  wish 
we  could  get  on  without  it.  But  we  can't.  How- 
ever, you'll  all  find,  if  you  haven't  found  it 
already,  that  a  time  comes  in  every  human  friend- 
ship, when  you  must  go  down  into  the  depths 


126  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

of  yourself,  and  lay  bare  what  is  there  to  your 
friend,  and  wait  in  fear  for  his  answer.  A  few 
moments  may  do  it ;  and,  it  may  be  (most  likely 
will  be,  as  you  are  English  boys),  that  you  never 
do  it  but  once.  But  done  it  must  be,  if  the 
friendship  is  to  be  worth  the  name,  you  must 
find  what  is  there,  at  the  very  root  and  bottom 
of  one  another's  hearts ;  and  if  you  are  at  one 
there,  nothing  on  earth  can,  or  at  least  ought,  to 
sunder  you. 

East  had  remained  lying  down  until  Tom 
finished  speaking,  as  if  fearing  to  interrupt  him ; 
he  now  sat  up  at  the  table  and  leant  his  head  on 
one  hand,  taking  up  a  pencil  with  the  other  and 
working  little  holes  with  it  in  the  table-cover. 
After  a  bit  he  looked  up,  stopped  the  pencil, 
and  said,  "Thank  you  very  much,  old  fellow; 
there's  no  other  boy  in  the  house  would  have 
done  it  for  me  but  you  or  Arthur.  I  can  see 
well  enough,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause,  "all  the 
best  big  fellows  look  on  me  with  suspicion ;  they 
think  I'm  a  devil-may-care  reckless  young  scamp 
— so  I  am — eleven  hours  out  of  twelve — but 
not  the  twelfth.  Then  all  of  our  contemporaries 
worth  knowing,  follow  suit  of  course;  we're 
very  good  friends  at  games  and  all  that,  but  not 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  12Y 

a  soul  of  tliem  but  you  and  Arthur  ever  tried  to 
break  tlirongli  the  crust,  and  see  whether  there 
was  any  thing  at  the  bottom  of  mej  and  then 
the  bad  ones,  I  won't  stand,  and  they  know  that." 

"Don't  you  think  that's  half  fancy,  Harry?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  East,  bitterly,  pegging 
away  with  his  pencil.  "I  see  it  all  plain  enough. 
Bless  you,  you  think  everybody's  as  straight- 
forward and  kind-hearted  as  you  are." 

''Well,  but  what's  the  reason  of  it?  There 
must  be  a  reason.  You  can  play  all  the  games 
as  well  as  any  one,  and  sing  the  best  song,  and 
are  the  best  company  in  the  house.  You  fancy 
you're  not  liked,  Harry.     It's  all  fancy." 

"I  only  wish  it  was,  Tom.  I  know  I  could  be 
popular  enough  with  all  the  bad  ones,  but  that 
I  won't  have,  and  the  good  ones  won't  have  me." 

"Why  not  ?,"  persisted  Tom;  "  you  don't  drink 
or  swear,  or  get  out  at  night ;  you  never  bully, 
or  cheat  at  lessons.  If  you  only  showed  you 
liked  it,  you'd  have  all  the  best  fellows  in  the 
house  running  after  you." 

"  Not  I,"  said  East.  Then  with  an  effort  he 
went  on,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I  never  stop 
the  Sacrament.  I  can  see  from  the  Doctor  down 
wardS;  how  that  tells  against  me." 


128  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

"  Yes  I've  seen  that,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I've 
been  very  sorry  for  it,  and  Arthur  and  I  have 
talked  about  it.  I've  often  thought  of  speaking 
to  you,  but  it's  so  hard  to  begin  on  such  subjects. 
I'm  very  glad  you've  opened  it.  Now,  why  don't 
you?" 

*'  I've  never  been  confirmed,"  said  East. 

"  Not  been  confirmed !"  said,  Tom  in  as- 
tonishment. I  never  thought  of  that.  Why 
weren't  you  confirmed  with  the  rest  of  us  nearly 
three  years  ago  ?  I  always  thought  you'd  been 
confirmed  at  home." 

"No,"  answered  East,  sorrowfully;  you  see 
this  was  how  it  happened.  Last  Confirmation 
was  soon  after  Arthur  came,  and  you  were  so 
taken  up  with  him,  I  hardly  saw  either  of  you. 
Well,  when  the  Doctor  sent  round  for  us  about 
it,  I  was  living  mostly  with  Green's  set — you 
know  the  sort.  They  all  went  in — I  dare  say 
it  was  all  right,  and  they  got  good  by  it ;  I  don't 
want  to  judge  them.  Only  all  I  could  see  of 
their  reasons  drove  me  j  ust  the  other  way.  'T was, 
'  because  the  Doctor  liked  it ;'  '  no  boy  got  on 
who  did'nt  stay  the  Sacrament;'  it  was  'the 
correct  thing,'  in  fact,  like  having  a  good  hat  to 
wear  on  Sundays.     I  couldn't  stand  it.     I  didn't 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  129 

feel  that  I  wanted  to  lead  a  different  life,  I  was 
very  well  content  as  I  was,  and  I  wasn't  going 
to  sham  religious  to  curry  favour  with  the  Doc- 
tor, or  any  one  else." 

East  stopped  speaking,  and  pegged  away  more 
diligently  than  ever  with  his  pencil.  Tom 
was  ready  to  cry.  He  felt  half  sorry  at  first 
that  he  had  been  confirmed  himself  He  seemed 
to  have  deserted  his  earliest  friend,  to  have  left 
him  by  himself  at  his  worst  need  for  those  long 
years.  He  got  up  and  went  and  sat  by  East, 
and  put  his  arm  over  his  shoulder. 

''Dear  old  boy,"  he  said,  "how  careless  and 
selfish  I've  been.  But  why  didn't  you  come 
and  talk  to  Arthur  and  me  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had,"  said  East,  "but  I 
was  a  fool.     It's  too  late  talking  of  it  now." 

"  Why  too  late  ?  You  want  to  be  confirmed 
now,  don't  you  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  East.  ''I've  thought  about 
it  a  good  deal;  only  often  I  fancy  I  must  be 
changing,  because  I  see  it's  to  do  me  good  here, 
just  what  stopped  me  last  time.  And  then  I  go 
back  again." 

"I'll  tell  you  now  how  'twas  with  me,"  said 

Tom,  warmly.     "If  it  hadn't  been  for  Arthur,  I 
6* 


/ 


130  BROWN   AND  ARTHUR. 

should  have  done  just  as  you  did.  I  liope  I 
should.  I  honour  you  for  it.  But  then  he 
made  it  out  just  as  if  it  was  taking  the  weak 
side  before  all  the  world — gc>ijig  ino^ce  for  all 
against  every  thing  that's  strong  and  rich  and 
proud  and  respectable,  a  little  band  of  brothers 
against  the  whole  world.  And  the  Doctor 
seemed  to  say  so  too,  only  he  said  a  great  deal 


"Ah,"  groaned  East,  "but  there  again,  that's 
just  another  of  my  difficulties  whenever  I  think 
about  the  matter.  I  don't  want  to  be  one  of 
your  saints,  one  of  your  elect,  whatever  the 
right  phrase  is.  My  sympathies  are  all  the 
other  way ;  with  the  many,  the  poor  devils  who 
run  about  the  streets,  and  don't  go  to  church. 
Don't  stare,  Tom ;  mind  I'm  telling  you  all  that's 
in  my  heart — as  far  as  I  know  it — but  its  all  a 
muddle.  You  must  be  gentle  with  me  if  you 
want  to  land  me.  Now  I've  seen  a  great  deal 
of  this  sort  of  religion,  I  was  bred  up  in  it,  and 
I  can't  stand  it.  If  nineteen-twentieths  of  the 
world  are  to  be  left  to  uncovenanted  mercies, 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  which  means  in  plain 
English  to  go  to  hell,  and  the  other  twentieth 
are  to  rejoice  at  it  all,  why — " 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  131 

''  Oil !  but,  Harry,  they  ain't,  they  dont,"  broke 
in  Tom,  really  shocked.  "Oh,  how  I  wish 
Arthur  hadn't  gone!  I'm  such  a  fool  about 
these  things.  But  it's  all  you  want  too.  East, 
it  is  indeed.  It  cuts  both  ways  somehow,  being 
confirmed  and  taking  the  Sacrament.  It  makes 
you  feel  on  the  side  of  all  the  good  and  all 
the  bad  too,  of  everybody  in  the  world.  Only 
there's  some  great,  dark,  strong  power,  which  is 
crushing  you  and  everybody  else.  That's  what 
Christ  conquered,  and  we've  got  to  fight.  What 
a  fool  I  am !  I  can't  explain.  If  Arthur  were 
only  here !" 

''  I  begin  to  get  a  glimmering  of  what  you 
mean,"  said  East. 

"  I  say  now,"  said  Tom  eagerly,  "  do  you  re- 
member how  we  both  hated  Flashman  ?"       i^ 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  East;  "  I  hate  him  still. 
What  then  ? 

"  Well,  when  I  came  to  take  the  Sacrament,  I 
had  a  great  struggle  about  that.  I  tried  to  put 
him  out  of  my  head;  and  when  I  couldn't  do 
that,  I  tried  to  think  of  him  as  evil,  as  some- 
thing that  the  Lord  who  was  loving  me  hated, 
and  which  I  might  hate  too.  But  it  wouldn't 
do.      I  broke  down;  I  believe  Christ  himself 


132  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

'broke  me  down;  and  when  tiie  Doctor  gave  me 
tlie  bread  and  wine,  and  leant  over  me  praying, 
I  prayed  for  poor  Flashman  as  if  it  had  been 
you  or  Arthur." 

East  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  on  the  table. 
Tom  could  feel  the  table  tremble.  At  last  he 
looked  up.  "Thank  you  again,  Tom,"  said  he; 
"  you  don't  know  what  you  may  have  done  for 
me  to  night.  I  think  I  see  now  how  the  right 
sort  of  sympathy  with  poor  devils  is  got  at." 

"  And  you'll  stop  the  Sacrament  next  time 
won't  you  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  Can  I  before  I'm  confirmed  ?,' 

"Go  and  ask  the  Doctor." 

"I  will." 

That  very  night  after  "prayers,  East  followed 
the  Doctor  and  the  old  Yerger,  bearing  the  can- 
dle, up  stairs.  Tom  watched,  and  saw  the 
Doctor  turn  round  when  he  heard  footsteps  fol- 
lowing him  closer  than  usual,  and  say,  -'Hah, 
East!     Do  you  want  to  speak  to  me,  my  man  ?" 

"If  you  please,  sir;"  and  the  private  door 
closed,  and  Tom  went  to  his  study  in  a  state  of 
great  trouble  of  mind. 

It  was  almost  an  hour  before  East  came  back  ; 
then  he  rushed  in  breathless. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  133 

"Well,  it's  all  right,"  lie  shouted,  seizing  Tom* 
by  the  hand.  "  I  feel  as  if  a  ton  weight  were 
off  my  mind." 

"  Hurrah,"  said  Tom ;  "  I  knew  it  would  be,  but 
tell  us  all  about  it." 

"Well,  I  just  told  him  all  about  it.  You 
can't  think  how  kind  and  gentle  he  was,  the 
great  grim  man,  whom  I've  feared  more  than 
anybody  on  earth.  When  I  stuck,  he  lifted  me, 
just  as  if  I'd  been  a  little  child.  And  he  seemed 
to  know  all  I'd  felt,  and  to  have  gone  through 
it  all.  And  I  burst  out  crying — more  than  I've 
done  this  five  years,  and  he  sat  down  by  me, 
and  stroked  my  head ;  and  I  went  blundering 
.  on,  and  told  him  all ;  much  worse  things  than 
I've  told  you.  And  he  wasn't  shocked  a  bit, 
and  didn't  snub  me,  or  tell  me  I  was  a  fool,  and 
it  was  all  nothing  but  pride  or  wickedness, 
though  I  dare  say  it  was.  And  he  didn't  tell 
me  not  to  follow  out  my  thoughts,  and  he  didn't 
give  me  any  cut-and-dried  explanation.  But 
when  I'd  done  he  just  talked  a  bit,  I  can  hardly 
remember  what  he  said,  yet ;  but  it  seemed  to 
spread  round  me  like  healing,  and  strength,  and 
light;  and  to  bear  me  up,  and  plant  me  on  a 
rock;  where  I  could  hold  my  footing  and  fight 


134  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

for  myself.  I  don't  know  wliat  to  do,  I  feel  so 
happy.  And  it's  all  owing  to  you,  dear  old 
boy !"     and  he  siezed  Tom's  hand  again. 

"And  you're  to  come  to  the  Communion?" 
said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  and  to  be  confirmed  in  the  holidays." 

Tom's  delight  was  as  great  as  his  friend's. 
But  he  hadn't  yet  had  out  all  his  own  talk,  and  was 
bent  on  improving  the  occasion :  so  he  proceeded 
to  propound  Arthur's  theory  about  not  being 
sorry  for  his  friends'  deaths,  which  he  had 
hitherto  kept  in  the  background,  and  by  which 
he  was  much  exercised;  for  he  didn't  feel  it 
honest  to  take  what  pleased  him  and  tlirow  over 
the  rest,  and  was  trying  vigorously  to  persuade 
himself  that  he  should  like  all  his  best  friends 
to  die  off-hand. 

But  East's  powers  of  remaining  serious  were 
exhausted,  and  in  five  minutes  he  was  saying 
the  most  ridiculous  things  he  could  think  of, 
till  Tom  was  almost  getting  angry  again. 

Despite  of  himself)  however,  he  couldn't  help 
laughing  and  giving  it  up,  when  East  appealed 
to  him  "  Well,  Tom,  you  ain't  going  to  punch 
my  head  because  I  insist  upon  being  sorry  when 
you  go  to  earth  ?" 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  135 

And  so  their  talk  finished  for  that  time,  and 
they  tried  to  learn  first  lesson ;  with  very  poor 
success,  as  appeared  next  morning,  when  they 
were  called  up,  and  narrowly  escaped  being 
floored,  which  ill-luck,  however,  did  not  sit 
heavily  on  either  of  their  souls. 


k 


k 


CEAPTER  YIL 

TOM   brown's   last   MATCH. 

"  Heaven  grant  the  manlier  heart,  that  timely,  ere 
Youth  fly,  with  life's  real  tempest  would  be  coping; 
The  fruit  of  dreamy  hoping 
Is,  waking,  blank  despair." 

Clocqh.    Amharvalia. 

The  curtain  now  rises  upon  the  last  act  of 
our  little  drama — for  hard-liearted  publishers 
warn  me  that  a  single  volume  must  of  necessity 
have  an  end.  Well,  well !  the  pleasantest  things 
must  come  to  an  end.  I  little  thouo^ht  last  Ions: 
vacation,  when  I  began  these  pages  to  help 
while  away  some  spare  time  at  a  watering-place, 
how  vividly  many  an  old  scene,  which  had  lain 
hid  away  for  years  in  some  dusty  old  corner  of 
my  brain,  would  come  back  again,  and  stand 
before  me  as  clear  and  bright,  as  if  it  had  hap- 
pened yesterday.  The  book  has  been  a  most 
grateful  task  to  me,  and  I  only  hope  that  all 
you,  my  dear  young  friends,  who  read  it,  (friends 
assuredly  you  must  be,  if  you  get  as  far  as  this,) 
will  be  half  as  sorry  to  come  to  the  last  stage  as 
I  am. 

Not  but  what  there  has  been  a  solemn  and  a 
136 


BROWN   AND  ARTHUR.  13Y 

sad  side  to  it."  As  tlie  old  scenes  became  living, 
and  the  actors  in  tliem  became  living  too,  many 
a  grave  in  the  Crimea  and  distant  India,  as  well 
as  in  the  quiet  churchyards  of  our  dear  old 
country,  seemed  to  open  and  send  forth  their 
dead,  and  their  voices  and  looks  and  ways  were 
again  in  one's  ears  and  eyes,  as  in  the  old  school- 
days. But  this  was  not  sad;  how  should  it  be, 
if  we  believe  as  our  Lord  has  taught  us  ?  How 
should  it  be,  when  one  more  turn  of  the  wheel, 
and  we  shall  be  by  their  sides  again,  learning 
from  them  again,  perhaps,  as  we  did  when  we 
were  new  boys  ? 

Then  there  were  others  of  the  old  faces  so  dear 
to  us  once,  who  had  somehow  or  another  just 
gone  clean  out  of  sight — are  they  dead  or  living  ? 
We  know  not,  but  the  thought  of  them  brings 
no  sadness  with  it.  Wherever  they  are,  we  can 
well  believe  they  are  doing  God's  work  and 
getting  His  wages. 

But  are  there  not  some,  whom  we  still  see 
sometimes  in  the  streets,  whose  homes  and 
haunts  we  know,  whom  we  could  probably  find 
almost  any  day  in  the  week  if  we  were  set  to 
do  it,  yet  from  whom  we  are  really  farther  than 
we  are  from  the  dead,  and  from  those  who  have 
2p 


138  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

gone  out  of  our  ken?  Yes,  there  are  and  must 
be  sucli;  and  therein  lies  the  sadness  of  old 
school  memories.  Yet  of  these  our  old  comrades, 
from  whom  more  than  time  and  space  separate  us, 
there  are  some,  by  whose  sides  we  can  feel  sure 
that  we  shall  stand  again  when  time  shall  be  no 
more.  We  may  think  o^  one  another  now  as 
dangerous  fanatics  or  narrow  bigots,  with  whom  ^ 
no  truce  is  possible,  from  whom  we  shall  only 
sever  more  and  more  to  the  end  of  our  lives, 
whom  it  would  be  our  respective  duties  to  im- 
prison or  hang,  if  we  had  the  power.  We  must 
go  our  way,  and  they  theirs,  as  long  as  flesh  and 
spirit  hold  together ;  but  let  our  own  Kugby 
poet  speak  words  of  healing  for  this  trial: 

"To  veer  how  vain!  on,  onward  strain, 
Brave  barks !  in  light,  in  darkness  too; 
Through  winds  and  tides,  one  compass  guides, 
To  that,  and  your  own  selves,  be  true. 

But,  0  blithe  breeze  !  and  0  great  seas. 

Though  ne'er  that  earliest  parting  past, 
On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 

Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 

One  port,  methought,  alike  they  sought, 
One  purpose  hold  where'er  they  fare. 
0  bounding  breeze,  0  rushing  seas ! 
At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there  !"* 

*  CLOUGn.    Ambarvalia. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  139 

This  is  not  mere  longing,  it  is  a  prophecy.  So 
over  these  too,  our  old  friends  who  are  friends 
no  more,  we  sorrow  not  as  men  without  hope. 
It  is  only  for  those  who  seem  to  us  to  have  lost 
compass  and  purpose,  and  to  be  drifting  help- 
lessly on  rocks  and  quicksands ;  whose  lives  are 
spent  in  the  service  of  the  world,  the  flesh  and 
the  devil;  for  self  alone,  and  not  for  their  fellow- 
men,  their  country,  or  their  God,  that  we  must 
mourn  and  pray  without  sure  hope  and  without 
light;  trusting  only  that  He,  in  whose  hands 
they  as  well  as  we  are,  who  has  died  for  them  as 
well  as  for  us,  who  sees  all  His  creatures 

"  With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours, 
To  make  allowance  for  us  all," 

will,  in  His  own  way  and  at  His  own  time,  lead 
them  also  home. 

Another  two  years  have  passed,  and  it  is 
again  the  end  of  the  summer  half-year  at  Rugby ; 
in  fact;  the  school  has  broken  up.  The  fifth- 
form  examinations  were  over  last  week,  and 
upon  them  have  followed  the  speeches,  and  the 
sixth-form  examinations  for  exhibitions;  and 
they  too,  are  over  now.  The  boys  have  gone 
to  all  the  -winds  of  heaven,  except  the  town 


140  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR, 

boys  and  tlie  eleven,  and  the  few  enthusiasts 
besides  who  have  asked  leave  to  stay  in  their 
houses  to  see  the  result  of  the  cricket  matches. 
For  this  year  the  Wellesburn  return  match  and 
the  Marylebone  match  are  played  at  Rugby,  to 
the  great  delight  of  the  town  and  neighbour- 
hood, and  the  sorrow  of  those  aspiring  young 
cricketers  who  have  been  reckoning  for  the  last 
three  months  on  showing  off  at  Lords'  ground. 

The  Doctor  started  for  the  lakes  yesterday 
morning,  after  an  interview  with  the  captain  of 
the  eleven,  in  the  presence  of  Thomas,  at  which 
he  arranged  in  what  school  the  cricket  dinners 
were  to  be,  and  all  other  matters  necessary  for 
the  satisfactory  carrying  out  of  the  festivities; 
and  warned  them  as  to  keeping  all  spirituous 
liquors  out  of  the  close,  and  having  the  gates 
closed  by  nine  o'clock. 

The  Wellesburn  match  was  played  out  with 
great  success  yesterday,  the  school  winning  by 
three  wickets ;  and  to-day  the  great  event  of  the 
cricketing  year,  the  Marylebone  match,  is  being 
played.  What  a  match  it  has  been!  The  Lon- 
don eleven  came  down  by  an  afternoon  train 
yesterday,  in  time  to  see  the  end  of  the  "Welles- 
burn  match ;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  over,  their 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  141 

leading  men  and  umpire  inspected  tlie  ground, 
criticizing  it  rather  unmercifully.  The  captain 
of  the  school  eleven,  and  one  or  two  others,  who 
had  played  the  Lords'  match  before  and  knew 
old  Mr.  Aislebie  and  several  of  the  Lords'  men, 
accompanied  them;  while  the  rest  of  the  eleven 
looked  on  from  under  the  Three  Trees  with 
admiring  eyes,  and  asked  one  another  the  names 
of  the  illustrious  strangers,  and  recounted  how 
many  runs  each  of  them  had  made  in  the  late 
matches  in  Bell's  Life.  They  looked  such  hard- 
bitten, wiry,  whiskered  fellows,  that  their  young 
adversaries  felt  rather  desponding  as  to  the 
result  of  the  morrow's  match.  The  ground  was 
at  last  chosen,  and  two  men  set  to  work  upon  it 
to  water  and  roll;  and  then,  there  being  yet 
some  half-hour  of  daylight,  some  one  had  sug- 
gested a  dance  on  the  turf.  The  close  was  half 
full  of  citizens  and  their  families,  and  the  idea 
was  hailed  with  enthusiasm.  The  cornopean 
player  was  still  on  the  ground.  In  five  minutes 
the  eleven  and  half-a-dozen  of  the  Wellesburn 
and  Marylebone  men  got  partners  somehow  or  an- 
other, and  a  merry  country  dance  was  going  on,  to 
which  every  one  flocked,  and  new  couples  joined 
in  every  minute,  till  there  were  a  hundred  of 


142  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

them  going  down  the  middle  and  up  again — 
and  the  long  line  of  school-buildings  looked 
gravely  do^vn  on  them,  every  window  glowing 
with  the  last  rays  of  the  western  sun,  and  the 
rooks  clanged  about  in  the  tops  of  the  old  elms, 
greatly  excited  and  resolved  on  having  their 
country  dance  too,  and  the  great  flag  flapped 
lazily  in  the  gentle  western  breeze.  Altogether, 
it  was  a  sight  which  would  have  made  glad  the 
heart  of  our  brave  old  founder,  Lawrence  Sheriff, 
if  he  were  half  as  good  a  fellow  as  I  take  him 
to  have  been.  It  was  a  cheerful  sight  to  see ; 
but  what  made  it  so  valuable  in  the  sight  of  the 
captain  of  the  school  eleven  was,  that  he  there 
saw  his  young  hands  shaking  off  their  shyness 
and  awe  of  the  Lords'  men,  as  they  crossed 
hands  and  capered  about  on  the  grass  together ; 
for  the  strangers  entered  into  it  all,  and  threw 
away  their  cigars,  and  danced  and  shouted  like 
boys ;  while  old  Mr.  Aislebie  stood  by  looking 
on,  in  his  white  hat,  leaning  on  a  bat,  in  benevo- 
lent enjoyment.  "  This  hop  will  be  worth  thirty 
runs  to  us  to-morrow,  and  will  be  the  making 
of  Haggles  and  Johnson,"  thinks  the  young 
leader,  as  he  revolves  many  things  in  his  mind, 
standing  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Aislebie,  whom  he 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  143 

will  not  leave  for  a  miimte;  for  he  feels  that  the 
character  of  the  school  for  courtesy  is  resting  on 
his  shoulders. 

But  when  a  quarter  to  nine  struck,  and  he 
saw  old  Thomas  beginning  to  fidget  about  with 
the  keys  in  his  hand,  he  thought  of  the  Doctor's 
parting  monition,  and  stopped  the  cornopean  at 
once,  notwithstanding  the  loud-voiced  remon- 
strances from  all  sides ;  and  the  crowd  scattered 
away  from  the  close,  the  eleven  all  going  into 
the  school-house,  where  supper  and  beds  were 
provided  for  them  by  the  Doctor's  orders. 

Deep  had  been  the  consultations  at  supper  as 
to  the  order  of  going  in,  who  should  bowl  the 
first  over,  whether  it  would  be  best  to  play 
steady  or  freely ;  and  the  youngest  hands  de- 
clared that  they  shouldn't  be  a  bit  nervous,  and 
praised  their  opponents  as  the  j oiliest  fellows  in 
the  world,  except,  perhaps,  their  old  friends  the 
Wellesburn  men.  How  far  a  little  good-nature 
from  their  elders  will  go  with  the  right  sort  of 
boys ! 

The  morning  had  dawned  bright  and  warm, 
to  the  intense  relief  of  many  an  anxious  young- 
ster, up  betimes  to  mark  the  signs  of  the  weather. 
The  eleven  went  down  in  a  body  before  break- 


I 


144  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

fast,  for  a  plunge  in  the  cold  bath  in  the  corner 
of  the  close.  The  ground  was  in  splendid  order, 
and  soon  after  ten  o'clock,  before  spectators  had 
arrived,  all  was  ready,  and  two  of  the  Lords* 
men  took  their  places  at  the  wicket ;  the  school, 
with  the  usual  liberality  of  young  hands,  having 
put  their  adversaries  in  first.  Old  Bailey  stepped 
up  to  the  mcket,  and  called  play,  and  the  match 
has  begun. 

"Oh,  well  bowled!  well  bowled,  Johnson!" 
cries  the  captain,  catching  up  the  ball  and  send- 
ing it  high  above  the  rook  trees,  while  the  third 
Marylebone  man  walks  away  from  the  wicket, 
and  old  Bailey  gravely  sets  up  the  middle  stump 
again  and  puts  the  bails  on. 

^'How  many  runs?"  Away  scamper  three 
boys  to  the  scoring-table,  and  are  back  again  in 
a  minute  amongst  the  rest  of  the  eleven,  who 
are  collected  together  in  a  knot  between  wicket. 
"Only  eighteen  runs,  and  three  wickets  down!" 

"Huzza  for  old  Kugbyl"  sing^  out  Jack  Hag- 
gles, the  long-stop,  toughest  and  burliest  of  boys, 
commonly  called  "Swiper  Jack;"  and  forthwith 
stands  on  his  head,  and  brandishes  his  legs  in 
the  air  in  triumph,  till  the  next  boy  catches 


BROWN    AND  ARTHUR.  145 

hold  of  his  heels  and  throws  him  over  on  to  his 
back. 

"Steady  there,  don't  be  such  an  ass,  Jack," 
says  the  captain;  "we  haven't  got  the  best 
wicket  yet.  Ah,  look  out  now  at  cover-point," 
adds  he,  as  he  sees  a  long-armed,  bare-headed, 
slashing-looking  player  coming  to  the  wicket. 
"And,  Jack,  mind  your  hits;  he  steals  more 
runs  than  any  man  in  England." 

And  they  all  find  that  they  have  got  their 
work  to  do  now.  The  new  comer's  off-hitting 
is  tremendous,  and  his  running  like  a  flash  of 
lightning.  He  is  never  in  his  ground,  except 
when  his  wicket  is  down.  Nothing  in  the  whole 
game  so  trying  to  boys;  he  has  stolen  three 
byes  in  the  first  ten  minutes,  and  Jack  Eaggles 
is  furious,  and  begins  throwing  over  savagely  to 
the  further  wicket,  until  he  is  sternly  stopped  by 
the  captain.  It  is  all  that  the  young  gentleman 
can  do  to  keep  his  team  steady,  but  he  knows 
that  every  thing  depends  on  it,  and  faces  his 
work  bravely.  The  score  creeps  up  to  fifty,  the 
boys  begin  to  look  blank,  and  the  spectators, 
who  are  now  mustering  strong,  are  very  silent. 
The  ball  flies  off  his  bat  to  all  parts  of  the  field, 
and  he  gives  no  rest  and  no  catches  to  any  one. 
la 


146  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

But  crickei  is  full  of  glorious  chances,  and  the 
goddess  who  presides  over  it  loves  to  bring  down 
the  most  skilful  players.  Johnson,  the  young 
bowler,  is  getting  wild,  and  bowls  a  ball  almost 
wide  to  the  oif ;  the  batter  steps  out  and  cuts  it 
beautifully  to  where  cover-point  is  standing  very 
deep,  in  fact,  almost  off  the  ground.  The  ball 
comes  skimming  and  twisting  along  about  three 
feet  from  the  ground.  He  rushes  at  it,  and  it 
sticks  somehow  or  other  in  the  fingers  of  his 
left  hand,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  himself 
and  the  whole  field.  Such  a  catch  hasn't  been 
made  in  the  close  for  years,  and  the  cheering  is 
maddening.  *' Pretty  cricket,"  says  the  captain, 
throwing  himself  on  the  ground  by  the  deserted 
wicket  with  a  long  breath ;  he  feels  that  a  crisis 
has  passed. 

I  wish  I  had  space  to  describe  the  whole 
match;  how  the  captain  stumped  the  next  man 
off  a  leg-shooter,  and  bowled  slow  cobs  to  old 
Mr.  Aislebie,  who  came  in  for  the  last  wicket. 
How  the  Lords'  men  were  out  by  half-past  twelve 
o'clock  for  ninety-eight  runs.  How  the  captain 
of  the  school  eleven  went  in  first  to  give  his 
men  pluck,  and  scored  twenty-five  in  beautiful 
style ;  how  Rugby  was  only  four  behind  in  the 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  14t 

first  innings.  What  a  glorious  dinner  they  had 
in  the  fourth-form  school,  and  how  the  cover- 
point  hitter  sang  the  most  topping  comic  songs, 
and  old  Mr.  Aislebie  made  the  best  speeches  that 
ever  were  heard,  afterwards.  But  I  haven't 
space,  that's  the  fact,  and  so  you  must  fancy  it 
all,  and  carry  yourselves  on  to  half-past  seven 
o'clock,  when  the  school  are  again  in,  with  five 
wickets  down  and  only  thirty -two  runs  to  make 
to  win.  The  Marylebone  men  played  carelessly 
in  their  second  innings,  but  they  are  working 
like  horses  now  to  save  the  match. 

There  is  much  healthy,  hearty,  happy  life  scat- 
tered up  and  down  the  close ;  but  the  group  to 
which  I  beg  to  call  your  special  attention  is 
there,  on  the  slope  of  the  island,  which  looks 
towards  the  cricket-ground.  It  consists  of  three 
figures;  two  are  seated  on  a  bench,  and  one  on 
the  ground  at  their  feet.  The  first,  a  tall,  slight, 
and  rather  gaunt  man,  with  a  bushy  eyebrow 
and  a  dry,  humourous  smile,  is  evidently  a  cler- 
gyman. He  is  carelessly  dressed,  and  looks 
rather  used-up,  which  isn't  much  to  be  wondered 
at,  seeing  that  he  has  just  finished  six  weeks  of 
examination  work;  but  there  he  basks,  and 
spreads  himself  out  in  the  evening  sun,  bent  on 


148  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

enjoying  life,  though  he  doesn't  quite  know 
what  to  do  with  his  arms  and  legs.  Surely  it  is 
our  young  friend  the  young  Master,  whom  we 
have  had  glimpses  of  before,  but  his  face  has 
gained  a  great  deal  since  we  last  came  across 
him. 

And  by  his  side,  in  white  flannel  shirt  and 
trousers,  straw  hat,  the  captain's  belt,  and  the 
untanned  yellow  cricket-shoes  which  all  the 
eleven  wear,  sits  a  strapping  figure  near  six  feet 
high,  with  ruddy  tanned  face  and  whiskers, 
curly  brown  hair,  and  a  laughing,  dancing  eye. 
He  is  leaning  forward,  with  his  elbows  resting 
on  his  knees,  and  dandling  his  favourite  bat, 
with  which  he  has  made  thirty  or  forty  runs  to- 
day, in  his  strong  brown  hands.  It  is  Tom 
Brown,  grown  into  a  young  man  nineteen  years 
old,  a  praepostor  and  captain  of  the  eleven, 
spending  his  last  day  as  a  Kugby  boy,  and,  let 
us  hope,  as  much  wiser  as  he  is  bigger  since  we 
last  had  the  pleasure  of  coming  across  him. 

And  at  their  feet,  on  the  warm,  dry  ground, 
similarly  dressed,  sits  Arthur,  Turkish-fashion, 
with  his  bat  across  his  knees.  He,  too,  is  no 
longer  a  boy;  less  of  a  boy,  in  fact,  than  Tom, 
if  one  may  judge  from  the  thoughtfulness  of  his 


I 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  149 

face,  which  is  somewhat  paler,  too,  than  one 
could  wish;  but  his  figure,  though  slight,  is 
well-knit  and  active,  and  all  his  old  timidity  has 
disappeared,  and  is  replaced  by  silent,  quaint 
fun,  with  which  his  face  twinkles  all  over,  as  he 
listens  to  the  broken  talk  between  the  other  two, 
in  which  he  joins  every  now  and  then. 

All  three  are  watching  the  game  eagerly,  and 
joining  in  the  cheering  which  follows  every  good 
hit.  It  is  pleasing  to  see  the  easy,  friendly  foot- 
ing which  the  pupils  are  on  with  their  master, 
perfectly  respectful,  yet  with  no  reserve  and 
nothing  forced  in  their  intercourse.  Tom  has 
clearly  abandoned  the  old  theory  of  '^natural 
enemies"  in  this  case,  at  any  rate. 

But  it  is  time  to  listen  to  what  they  are  say- 
ing, and  see  what  we  can  gather  out  of  it. 

*'  I  don't  object  to  your  theory,"  says  the  mas- 
ter, "  and  I  allow  you  have  made  a  fair  case  for 
yourself.  But  now,  in  such  books  as  Aristo- 
phanes, for  instance,  you've  been  reading  a  play 
this  half  with  the  Doctor,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  the  Knights,"  answered  Tom. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed  the 
wonderful  humour  of  it  twice  as  much  if  you 
had  taken  more  pains  with  your  scholarship.'* 


150  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

^'"Well,  sir,  I  don't  believe  any  boy  in  the 
form  enjoyed  the  sets-to  between  Cleon  and 
the  Sausage-seller  more  than  I  did — eh,  Ar- 
thur?" said  Tom,  giving  him  a  stir  mth  his  foot. 

''Yes,  I  must  say  he  did,"  said  Arthur.  "I 
think,  sir,  you've  hit  upon  the  wrong  book 
there." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  master.  ''Why, 
in  those  very  passages  of  arms,  how  can  you 
thoroughly  appreciate  them  unless  you  are 
master  of  the  weapons  ?  and  the  weapons  are 
the  language  which  you.  Brown,  have  never 
half  worked  at;  and  so,  as  I  say,  you  must 
have  lost  all  the  delicate  shades  of  meaning  which 
makes  the  best  part  of  the  fun." 

"Oh!  well  played — bravo,  Johnson!"  shouted 
Arthur,  dropping  his  bat  and  clapping  furiously, 
and  Tom  joined  in  with  a  "bravo,  Johnson  I" 
which  might  have  been  heard  at  the  chapel. 

"Eh!  what  was  it?  I  didn't  see,"  inquired 
the  master;  "they  only  got  one  run,  I  thought?" 

"No,  but  such  a  ball,  three-quarters  length 
and  coming  straight  for  his  leg-bail.  Nothing 
but  that  turn  of  the  wrist  could  have  saved  him, 
and  he  drew  it  away  to  leg  for  a  safe  one. 
Bravo,  Johnson !" 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  151 

"How  well  they  are  bowling,  though,"  said 
Arthur ;    "  they  don't  mean  to  be  beat,  I  can  see." 

"There  noAV,"  struck  in  the  master,  "you  see 
that's  just  what  I  have  been  preaching  this  half- 
hour.  The  delicate  play  is  the  true  thing.  I 
don't  understand  cricket,  so  I  don't  enjoy  those 
fine  draws  which  you  tell  me  are  the  best  play, 
though  when  you  or  Raggles  hit  a  ball  hard 
away  for  six,  I  am  as  delighted  as  any  one. 
Don't  you  see  the  analogy?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Tom,  looking  up 
roguishly,  "I  see;  only  the  question  remains, 
whether  I  should  have  got  most  good  by  under- 
standing Greek  particles  or  cricket  thoroughly. 
I'm  such  a  thick,  I  never  should  have  had  time 
for  both." 

"  I  see  you  are  an  incorrigible,"  said  the  mas- 
ter, with  a  chuckle;  "but  I  refute  you  by  an 
example.  Arthur  there,  has  taken  in  Greek  and 
cricket  too." 

"Yes,  but  no  thanks  to  him;  Greek  came 
natural  to  him.  Why,  when  he  first  came  I 
remember  he  used  to  read  Herodotus  for  plea- 
sure as  I  did  Don  Quixote,  and  couldn't  have 
made  a  false  concord  if  he'd  tried  ever  so  hard 
— and  then  I  looked  after  his  cricket." 


152  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

"  Out !  Bailey  lias  given  liim  out — do  you  see, 
Tom?"  cries  Arthur.  "  How  foolish  of  them  to 
run  so  hard." 

^'  Well,  it  can't  be  helped ;  he  has  played  very 
well.     Whose  turn  is  it  to  go  in  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  they've  got  your  list  in  the 
tent." 

"  Let's  go  and  see,"  said  Tom,  rising  ;  but  at 
this  moment  Jack  Eaggles  and  two  or  three 
more  come  running  to  the  island  moat. 

"Oh,  Brown,  mayn't  I  go  in  next?"  shouts 
the  Swiper. 

"Whose  name  is  next  on  the  list?"  says  the 
captain. 

"Winter's,  and  then  Arthur's,"  answers  the 
boy  who  carries  it ;  "  but  there  are  only  twenty- 
six  runs  to  get,  and  no  time  to  lose.  I  heard 
Mr.  Aislebie  say  that  the  stumps  must  be  drawn 
at  a  quarter-past  eight  exactly." 

"  Oh,  do  let  the  Swiper  go  in,"  chorus  the 
boys;  so  Tom  yields  against  his  better  judg- 
ment. 

"  I  dare  say  now  I've  lost  the  match  by  this 
nonsense,"  he  says,  as  he  sits  down  again ;  "  they'll 
be  sure  to  get  Jack's  wicket  in  three  or  four 
minutes ;  however,  you'll  have  the  chance,  sir. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  153 

of  seeing  a  hard  hit  or  two,"  adds  he,  smiling  and 
turning  to  the  master. 

"  Come,  none  of  your  irony,  Brown,"  answers 
the  master.  "  I'm  beginning  to  understand  the 
game  scientifically.  What  a  noble  game  it  is, 
too." 

''  Isn't  it  ?  But  it's  more  than  a  game.  It's 
an  institution,"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "  the  birthright  of  British 
boys,  old  and  young,  as  habeas  corpus  and  trial 
by  jury  are  of  British  men." 

"  The  discipline  and  reliance  on  one  another 
which  it  teaches  is  so  valuable,  I  think,"  went 
on  the  master,  "  it  ought  to  be  such  an  unselfish 
game.  It  merges  the  individual  in  the  eleven ; 
he  doesn't  play  that  he  may  win,  but  that  his 
side  may." 

"That's  very  true,"  said  Tom,  "and  that's 
why  football  and  cricket,  now  one  comes  to  think 
of  it,  are  such  much  better  games  than  fives'  or 
hare-and-hounds,  or  any  others  where  the  object 
is  to  come  in  first  or  to  win  for  oneself,  and 
not  that  one's  side  may  win." 

"And  then  the  captain  of  the  eleven!"  said 
the  master,  ''what  a  post  is  his  in  our  school- 
world  !  almost  as  hard  as  the  Doctor's ;  requiring 


l54  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

skill,  and  gentleness,  and  firmness,  and  I  know 
not  what  other  rare  qualities." 

''Which  don't  he  wish  he  may  get?"  said 
Tom,  laughing ;  "  at  any  rate,  he  hasn't  got  them 
yet,  or  he  wouldn't  have  been  such  a  flat  to-night 
as  to  let  Jack  Kaggles  go  in  out  of  his  turn." 

"Ah!  the  Doctor  never  would  have  done 
that,"  said  Arthur,  demurely.  "Tom,  you've  a 
great  deal  to  learn  yet  in  the  art  of  ruling." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you'd  tell  the  Doctor  so,  then, 
and  get  him  to  let  me  stop  till  I'm  twenty.  I 
don't  want  to  leave,  I'm  sure." 

"  What  a  sight  it  is,"  broke  in  the  master, 
''the  Doctor  as  a  ruler.  Perhaps  ours  is  the 
only  little  corner  of  the  British  Empire  which  is 
thoroughly,  wisely,  and  strongly  ruled  just  now. 
I'm  more  and  more  thankful  every  day  of  my 
life  that  I  came  here  to  be  under  him." 

"So  am  I,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tom;  "and  more 
and  more  sorry  that  I've  got  to  leave." 

"  Every  place  and  thing  one  sees  here  reminds 
one  of  some  wise  act  of  his,"  went  on  the  master. 
"This  island  now — you  remember  the  time, 
Brown,  when  it  was  laid  out  in  small  gardens, 
and  cultivated  by  frost-bitten  fags  in  February 
and  March?" 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  155 

''  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Tom ;  ''  didn't  I  liate 
spending  two  hours  in  the  afternoons  grubbing 
in  the  tough  dirt  with  the  stump  of  a  fives'  bat? 
But  turf- cart  was  good  fun  enough." 

^'  I  dare  say  it  was,  but  it  was  always  leading 
to  fights  with  the  townspeople;  and  then  the 
stealing  flowers  out  of  all  the  gardens  in  Kugby 
for  the  Easter  show  was  abominable." 

"  Well,  so  it  was,"  said  Tom,  looking  down ; 
"but  we  fags  couldn't  help  ourselves.  But  what 
has  that  to  do  with  the  Doctor's  ruling?" 

"A  great  deal,  I  think,"  said  the  master; 
"  what  brought  island-fagging  to  an  end  ?" 

"  Why,  the  Easter  speeches  were  put  off  till 
midsummer,"  said  Tom,  "  and  the  sixth  had  the 
gymnastic  poles  put  up  here." 

"Well,  and  who  changed  the  time  of  the 
speeches,  and  put  the  idea  of  gymnastic  poles 
into  the  heads  of  their  worships  the  sixth  form  ?" 
said  the  master. 

"  The  Doctor,  I  suppose,"  said  Tom.  "  I  never 
thought  of  that." 

"Of  course  you  didn't,"  said  the  master,  "or 
else,  fag  as  you  were,  you  would  have  shouted 
with  the  whole  school  against  putting  down  old 
customs.     And  that's  the  way  that  all  the  Doc- 


156  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

tor's  reforms  have  been  carried  out  when  he  has 
been  left  to  himself — quietly  and  naturally, 
putting  a  good  thing  in  the  place  of  a  bad,  and 
letting  the  bad  die  out ;  no  wavering  and  no 
hurry — the  best  thing  that  could  be  done  for  the 
time  being,  and  patience  for  the  rest." 

"  Just  Tom's  own  way,"  chimed  in  Arthur, 
nudging  Tom  with  his  elbow,  "  driving  a  nail 
where  it  will  go ;"  to  which  allusion  Tom  an- 
swered by  a  sly  kick. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  the  master,  innocent  of  the 
allusion  and  by-play. 

Meantime  Jack  Raggles,  with  his  sleeves 
tucked  up  above  his  great  brown  elbows,  scorn- 
ing pads  and  gloves,  has  presented  himself  at 
the  wicket ;  and  having  run  one  for  a  forward 
drive  of  Johnson's,  is  about  to  receive  his  first 
ball.  There  are  only  twenty -four  runs  to  make, 
and  four  wickets  to  go  down,  a  winning  match 
if  they  play  decently  steady.  The  ball  is  a  very 
swift  one,  and  rises  fast,  catching  Jack  on  the 
outside  of  the  thigh,  and  bounding  away  as  if 
from  India-rubber,  while  they  run  two  for  a  leg- 
bye  amidst  great  applause,  and  shouts  from 
Jack's  many  admirers.  The  next  ball  is  a  beau- 
tifully pitched  ball  for  the  outer  stump,  which 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  15t 

the  reckless  and  unfeeling  Jack  catches  hold  of, 
and  hits  right  round  to  leg  for  five,  while  the 
applause  becomes  deafening;  only  seventeen 
runs  to  get  with  four  wickets — the  game  is  all 
but  ours ! 

It  is  over  now,  and  Jack  walks  swaggering 
about  his  wicket,  with  the  bat  over  his  shoulder, 
while  Mr.  Aislebie  holds  a  short  parley  with  his 
men.  Then  the  cover-point  hitter,  that  cunning 
man,  goes  on  to  bowl  slow  twisters.  Jack  waves 
his  hand  triumphantly  towards  the  tent,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  See  if  I  don't  finish  it  all  off  now  in 
three  hits." 

Alas,  my  son  Jack !  the  enemy  is  too  old  for 
thee.  The  first  ball  of  the  over  Jack  steps  out 
and  meets,  swiping  with  all  his  force.  If  he  had 
only  allowed  for  the  twist!  but  he  hasn't,  and 
so  the  ball  goes  spinning  up  straight  into  the 
air,  as  if  it  would  never  come  down  again. 
Away  runs  Jack,  shouting  and  trusting  to  the 
chapter  of  accidents ;  but  the  bowler  runs  stead- 
ily under  it,  judging  every  spin,  and,  calling 
out,  "  I  have  it,"  catches  it,  and  playfully  pitches 
it  on  to  the  back  of  the  stalwart  Jack,  who  is 
departing  with  a  rueful  countenance. 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  says  Tom,  rising. 


158  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

"  Come  along,  the  game's  getting  very  serious." 

So  they  leave  the  island  and  go  to  the  tent, 
and  after  deep  consultation  Arthur  is  sent  in, 
and  goes  off  to  the  wicket  with  a  last  exhortation 
from  Tom,  to  play  steady  and  keep  his  bat 
straight.  To  the  suggestions  that  Winter  is  the 
best  bat  left,  Tom  only  replies,  "Arthur  is  the 
steadiest,  and  Johnson  will  make  the  runs  if  the 
wicket  is  only  kept  up." 

"  I  am  surprised  to  see  Arthur  in  the  eleven," 
said  the  master,  as  they  stood  together  in  front 
of  the  dense  crowd,  which  was  now  closing 
in  round  the  ground. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  he  ought  to  be 
in  for  his  play,"  said  Tom,  ^'but  I  couldn't  help 
putting  him  in.  It  will  do  him  so  much  good, 
and  you  can't  think  what  I  owe  him." 

The  master  smiled.  The  clock  strikes  eight, 
and  the  whole  field  becomes  fevered  with  excite- 
ment. Arthur,  after  two  narrow  escapes,  scores 
one;  and  Johnson  gets  the  ball.  The  bowling 
and  fielding  are  superb,  and  Johnson's  batting 
worthy  the  occasion.  He  makes  here  a  two,  and 
there  a  one,  managing  to  keep  the  ball  to  himself, 
and  Arthur  backs  up  and  runs  perfectly ;  only 
eleven  runs  to  make  now,  and  the  crowd  scarcely 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  159 

breathe.  At  last  Arthur  gets  the  ball  again,  and 
actually  drives  it  forward  for  two,  and  feels 
prouder  than  when  he  got  the  three  best  prizes, 
at  hearing  Tom's  shouts  of  joy,  ''  Well  played, 
well  played,  young'unl" 

But  the  next  ball  is  too  much  for  a  young 
hand,  and  his  bails  fly  different  ways.  Nine  runs 
to  make,  and  two  wickets  to  go  down — it  is  too 
much  for  human  nerves. 

Before  Winter  can  get  in,  the  omnibus  which 
is  to  take  the  Lords'  men  to  the  train  pulls  up  at 
the  side  of  the  close,  and  Mr.  Aislebie  and  Tom 
consult,  and  give  out  that  the  stumps  will  be 
drawn  after  the  next  over.  And  so  ends  the 
great  match.  Winter  and  Johnson  carry  out 
their  bats,  and,  it  being  a  one  day's  match,  the 
Lords'  men  are  declared  winners,  they  having 
scored  the  most  in  the  first  innings. 

But  such  a  defeat  is  a  victory :  so  think  Tom 
and  all  the  school  eleven,  as  they  accompany 
their  conquerors  to  the  omnibus,  and  send  them 
off  with  three  ringing  cheers,  after  Mr.  Aislebie 
has  shaken  hands  all  round,  saying  to  Tom,  '*  I 
must  compliment  you,  sir,  on  your  eleven,  and 
I  hope  we  shall  have  you  for  a  member  if  you 
come  up  to  town." 


160  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

As  Tom  and  the  rest  of  tlie  eleven  were  turn- 
ing back  into  tlie  close,  and  everybody  was  be- 
ginning to  cry  out  for  another  country  dance, 
encouraged  by  the  success  of  the  night  before, 
the  young  master  who  was  just  leaving  the  close, 
stopped  him,  and  asked  him  to  come  up  to  tea 
at  half-past  eight,  adding,  ''I  won't  keep  you 
more  than  half-an-hour,  and  ask  Arthur  to  come 
up  too." 

"  I'll  come  up  with  you  directly  if  you'll  let 
me,"  said  Tom,  "for  I  feel  rather  melancholy, 
and  not  quite  up  to  the  country  dance  and  sup- 
per with  the  rest." 

''Do,  by  all  means,"  said  the  master,  I'll  wait 
here  for  you." 

So  Tom  went  off  to  get  his  boots  and  things 
from  the  tent,  to  tell  Arthur  of  the  invitation, 
and  to  speak  to  his  second  in  command  about 
stopping  the  dancing  and  shutting  up  the  close 
as  soon  as  it  grew  dusk.  Arthur  promised  to 
follow  as  soon  as  he  had  had  a  dance.  So  Tom 
handed  his  things  over  to  the  man  in  charge  of 
the  tent,  and  walked  quietly  away  to  the  gate 
where  the  master  was  waiting,  and  the  two  took 
their  way  together  up  the  HilmDrton  road. 

Of  course  they  found  the  master's  house  locked 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  161 

up;  and  all  tlie  servants  away  in  the  close,  about 
this  time  no  doubt  footing  it  away  on  the  grass 
with  extreme  delight  to  themselves,  and  in  utter 
oblivion  of  the  unfortunate  bachelor  their  mas- 
ter, whose  one  enjoyment  in  the  shape  of  meals 
was  his  "dish  of  tea"  (as  our  grandmothers 
called  it),  in  the  evening;  and  the  phrase  was 
apt  in  his  case,  for  he  always  poured  his  out  into 
the  saucer  before  drinking.  Great  was  the  good 
man's  horror  at  finding  himself  shut  out  of  his 
own  house.  Had  he  been  alone  he  would  have 
treated  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  would  have 
strolled  contentedly  up  and  down  his  gravel- 
walk  until  some  one  came  home;  but  he  was 
hurt  at  the  stain  on  his  character  of  host,  es- 
pecially as  the  guest  was  a  pupil.  However,  the 
guest  seemed  to  think  it  a  great  joke,  and 
presently  as  they  poked  about  round  the  house, 
mounted  a  wall  from  which  he  could  reach  a 
passage  window :  the  window,  as  it  turned  out, 
was  not  bolted,  so  in  another  minute  Tom  was 
in  the  house  and  down  at  the  front  door,  which 
he  opened  from  inside.  The  master  chuckled 
grimly  at  this  burglarious  entry,  and  insisted  on 
leaving  the  hall  door  and  two  of  the  front  win- 
dows open,  to  frighten  the  truants  on  their 
g2 


162  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR, 

return ;  and  tlien  the  two  set  about  foraging  for 
tea,  in  wliicli  operation  the  master  was  much  at 
fault,  having  the  faintest  possible  idea  of  where 
to  find  anjrthing,  and  being  moreover  wonderous- 
ly  short-sighted ;  but  Tom  by  a  sort  of  instinct 
knew  the  right  cupboards  in  the  kitchen  and 
pantry,  and  soon  managed  to  place  on  the 
snuggery  table  better  materials  for  a  meal  than 
had  appeared  there  probably  during  the  reign 
of  his  tutor,  who  was  then  and  there  initiated, 
amongst  other  things,  into  the  excellence  of  that 
mysterious  condiment,  a  dripping  cake.  The 
cake  was  newly  baked,  and  all  rich  and  flaky ; 
Tom  had  found  it  reposing  in  the  cook's  private 
cupboard,  awaiting  her  return;  and  as  a  warn 
ing  to  her  they  finished  it  to  the  last  crumb. 
The  kettle  sang  away  merrily  on  the  hob  of  the 
snuggery,  for,  notwithstanding  the  time  of  year, 
they  lighted  a  fire,  throwing  both  the  windows 
wide  open  at  the  same  time ;  the  heap  of  books 
and  papers  were  pushed  away  to  the  other  end 
of  the  table,  and  the  great  solitary  engraving  of 
King's  College  Chapel  over  the  mantel-piece  look- 
ed less  stiff  than  usual,  as  they  settled  themselves 
down  in  the  twilight  to  the  serious  drinking  of  tea. 
After  some  talk  on  the  match,  and  other  in- 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  163 

dijfferent  subjects,  the  conversation  came  natu- 
rally back  to  Tom's  approacbing  departure,  over 
which  he  began  again  to  make  his  moan. 

"  Well,  we  shall  all  miss  you  quite  as  much 
as  you  will  miss  us,"  said  the  master.  "You  are 
the  Nestor  of  the  school  now,  are  you  not  ? 

"  Yes,  ever  since  East  left,"  answered  Tom. 

"By-the-bye  have  you  heard  from  him?" 

^'Yes  I  had  a  letter  in  February,  just  before 
he  started  for  India  to  join  his  regiment  ." 

"  He  will  make  a  capital  officer." 

"Aye,  won't  he?"  said  Tom,  brightening;" 
"  no  fellow  could  handle  boys  better,  and  I  sup- 
pose soldiers  are  very  like  boys.  And  he'll 
never  tell  them  to  go  where  he  won't  go  himself. 
No  mistake  about  that — a  braver  fellow  never 
walked." 

"  His  year  in  the  sixth  will  have  taught  him 
a  good  deal  that  will  be  useful  to  him  now." 

"So  it  will,"  said  Tom  staring  into  the  fire. 
"Poor  dear  Harry,"  he  went  on,  ''how  well  I 
remember  the  day  we  were  put  out  of  the  twenty. 
How  he  rose  to  the  situation,  and  burnt  his 
cigar-cases,  and  gave  away  his  pistols,  and  pon- 
dered on  the  constitutional  authority  of  the 
sixth,  and  his  new  duties  to  the  Doctor,  and  the 


164  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR 

fiftli-form,  and  the  fags.  Aye,  and  no  fellow 
ever  acted  up  to  them  better,  though  he  was 
always  a  people's  man — for  the  fags,  and  against 
constituted  authorities.  He  couldn't  help  that, 
you  know.  I'm  sure  the  Doctor  must  have  liked 
him  ?"  said  Tom,  looking  up  inquiringly. 

"  The.  Doctor  sees  the  good  in  every  one,  and 
appreciates  it,"  said  the  master  dogmatically, 
"  but  I  hope  East  will  get  a  good  colonel.  He 
won't  do  if  he  can't  respect  those  above  him. 
How  long  it  took  him,  even  here,  to  learn  the 
lesson  of  obeying." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  was  alongside  of  him,"  said 
Tom.  "  If  I  can't  be  at  Rugby,  I  want  to  be  at 
work  in  the  world,  and  not  dawdling  away 
three  years  at  Oxford." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  "  at  work  in  the 
world  ?"  said  the  master,  pausing,  with  his  lips 
close  to  his  saucer-full  of  tea,  and  peering  at 
Tom  over  it. 

"  Well,  I  mean  real  work ;  one's  profession  ; 
whatever  one  will  have  really  to  do,  and  make 
one's  living  by  it.  I  want  to  be  doing  some  real 
good,  feeling  that  I  am  not  only  at  play  in  the 
world, "^answered  Tom,  rather  puzzled  to  find 
out  himself  what  he  really  did  mean. 


BROWN    AND   A'RTHUR.  165 

"  You  are  mixing  up  two  very  different  things 
in  your  head,  I  think,  Brown,"  said  the  master, 
putting  down  his  empty  saucer,  "  and  you  ought 
to  get  clear  about  them.  You  talk  of  '  working 
to  get  your  living,'  and  '  doing  some  real  good 
in  the  world,'  in  the  same  breath.  Now  you 
may  be  getting  a  very  good  living  in  a  profes- 
sion, and  yet  doing  no  good  at  all  in  the  world, 
but  quite  the  contrary,  at  the  same  time.  Keep 
the  latter  before  you  as  your  one  object,  and  you 
will  be  right,  whether  you  make  a  living  or  not ; 
but  if  you  dwell  on  the  other,  you'll  very  likely 
drop  into  mere  money -making,  and  let  the  world 
take  care  of  itself  for  good  or  evil.  Don't  be  in 
a  hurry  about  finding  your  work  in  the  world 
for  yourself ;  you  are  not  old  enough  to  judge 
for  yourself  yet,  but  just  look  about  you  in  the 
place  you  find  yourself  in,  and  try  to  make 
things  a  little  better  and  honester  there.  You'll 
find  plenty  to  keep  your  hand  in  at  Oxford,  or 
wherever  else  you  go.  And  don't  be  led  away 
to  think  this  part  of  the  world  important,  and 
that  unimportant.  Every  corner  of  the  world 
is  important.  No  man  knows  whether  this  part 
or  that  is  most  so,  but  every  man  may  do  some 
honest  work  in  his  own  corner."     And  then  the 


166  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

good  man  went  on  to  talk  wisely  to  Tom  of  the 
sort  of  w^ork  which,  he  might  take  up  as  an  un- 
dergraduate ;  and  warned  him  of  the  prevalent 
University  sins,  and  explained  to  him  the  many 
and  great  differences  between  University  and 
school  life ;  till  the  twilight  changed  into  dark- 
ness, and  they  heard  the  truant  servants  stealing 
in  by  the  back  entrance. 

"  I  wonder  where  Arthur  can  be,"  said  Tom 
at  last,  looking  at  his  watch ;  "  why,  its  nearly 
half-past  nine  already." 

"Oh,  he  is  comfortably  at  supper  wdth  the 
eleven,  forgetful  of  his  oldest  friends,"  said  the 
master.  "  Nothing  has  given  me  greater  plea- 
sure," he  went  on,  ^^than  your  friendship  for 
him,  it  has  been  the  making  of  you  both." 

"Of  me,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Tom;  "I 
should  never  have  been  here  now  but  for  him. 
It  was  the  luckiest  chance  in  the  world  that 
sent  him  to  Eugby,  and  made  him  my  chum." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  the  lucky  chances  ?  said 
the  master :  "  I  don't  know  that  there  are  any 
such  things  in  the  world ;  at  any  rate  there  was 
neither  luck  nor  chance  in  that  matter." 

Tom  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  he  went 
on,  "  Do  you  remember  when  the  Doctor  lectured 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  16t 

you  and  East  at  tlie  end  of  one  half-year,  wlien 
you  were  in  the  shell,  and  had  been  getting  into 
all  sorts  of  scrapes?" 

"Yes,  well  enough,"  said  Tom,  "it  was  the 
half-year  before  Arthur  came." 

"Exactly  so"  answered  the  master.  "Now  I 
was  with  him  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  and  he 
was  in  great  distress  about  you  two.  And,  after 
some  talk,  we  both  agreed  that  you  in  particular 
wanted  some  object  in  the  school  beyond  games 
and  mischief,  for  it  was  quite  clear  that  you 
never  would  make  the  regular  school  work  your 
first  object.  And  so  the  Doctor  at  the  beginning 
of  the  next  half-year,  looked  out  the  best  of  the 
new  boys  and  separated  you  and  East,  and  put 
the  youug  boy  into  your  study,  in  the  hope  that 
when  you  had  somebody  to  lean  on  you,  you 
would  begin  to  see  to  stand  a  little  steadier  your- 
self, and  get  manliness  and  thoughtfulness.  And 
I  can  assure  you  he  has  watched  the  experiment 
ever  since  with  great  satisfaction.  Ah!  not  one 
of  you  boys  will  ever  know  the  anxiety  you 
have  given  him,  or  the  care  with  which  he  has 
watched  over  every  step  in  your  school  lives." 

Up  to  this  time  Tom  had  never  wholly  given 
in  to,  or  understood  the  Doctor.     At  first  he  had 


168  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

thorouglily  feared  liim.  For  some  years,  as  I 
have  tried  to  show,  he  had  learnt  to  regard  him 
with  love  and  respect,  and  to  think  him  a  very 
great  and  wise  and  good  man.  But,  as  regarded 
his  own  position  in  the  school,  of  which  he  was 
no  little  proud,  Tom  had  no  idea  of  giving  any 
one  credit  for  it  but  himself;  and  truth  to  tell, 
was  a  very  self- conceited  young  gentleman  on 
the  subject.  He  was  wont  to  boast  that  he  had 
fought  his  own  way  fairly  up  the  school,  and 
had  never  made  up  to,  or  been  taken  up  by  any 
big  fellow  or  master,  and  that  it  was  now  quite 
a  different  place  from  what  it  was  when  he  first 
came.  And  indeed,  though  he  didn't  actually 
boast  of  it,  yet  in  his  secret  soul  he  did  to  a 
great  extent  believe,  that  the  great  reform  in  the 
school  had  been  owing  quite  as  much  to  himself 
as  to  any  one  else.  Arthur,  he  acknowledged, 
had  done  him  good,  and  taught  him  a  good  deal, 
so  had  other  boys  in  different  ways ;  but  they 
had  not  had  the  same  means  of  influence  on  the 
school  in  general ;  and  as  for  the  Doctor,  why 
he  was  a  splendid  master,  bnt  every  one  knew 
that  masters  could  do  very  little  out  of  school 
hours.  In  short,  he  felt  on  terms  of  equality 
with  his  chief;  so  far  as  the  social  state  of  the 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  1G9 

school  was  concerned,  and  tliought  that  the 
Doctor  would  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  get  on 
without  him.  Moreover,  his  school  toryism  was 
still  strong,  and  he  looked  still  with  some  jeal- 
ousy on  the  Doctor,  as  somewhat  of  a  fanatic  in 
the  matter  of  change ;  and  thought  it  very  desi- 
rable for  the  school  that  he  should  have  some 
wise  person  (such  as  himself)  to  look  sharply 
after  vested  school-rights,  and  see  that  nothing 
was  done  to  the  injury  of  the  republic  without 
due  protest. 

It  was  a  new  light  to  him  to  find,  that  besides 
teaching  the  sixth,  and  governing  and  guiding 
the  whole  school,  editing  classics,  and  writing 
histories,  the  great  head-master  had  found  time 
in  those  busy  years  to  watch  over  the  career, 
even  of  him,  Tom  Brown,  and  his  particular 
friends, — and,  no  doubt,  of  fifty  other  boys  at 
the  same  time ;  and  all  this  without  taking  the 
least  credit  to  himself,  or  seeming  to  know,  or 
let  any  one  else  know,  that  he  ever  thought  par- 
ticularly of  any  boy  at  all. 

However,  the  Doctor's  victory  was  complete 

from  that  moment  over  Tom  Brown  at  any  rate. 

He   gave   way  at   all  points,  and   the   enemy 

marched  right  over  him,  calvary,  infantry,  and 
8h 


J  70  r>E(.WN    AND    ARTIRR. 

artillery,  tlie  land  transport  corps,  and  the  camp 
followers.  It  had  taken  eight  long  years  to  do 
it,  but  now  it  was  done  thoroughly,  and  there 
wasn't  a  corner  of  him  left  Avhich  didn't  believe 
in  the  Doctor.  Had  ]ic  returned  to  school  again, 
and  the  Doctor  began  the  half-year  by  abolish- 
ing fagging,  and  football,  and  the  Saturday  half- 
holida}^,  or  all  or  any  of  the  most  cherished 
school  institutions,  Tom  would  have  supported 
him  with  the  blindest  faith.  And  so,  after  a 
half  confession  of  his  previous  short-comings, 
and  sorrowful  adieus  to  his  tutor,  from  whom  he 
received  two  beautifully -bound  volumes  of  the 
Doctor's  Sermons,  as  a  parting  present,  he 
marched  down  to  the  school-house,  a  hero- wor- 
shipper, who  would  have  satisfied  the  soul  of 
Thomas  Carlyle  himself. 

There  he  found  the  eleven  at  high  jinks  after 
supper.  Jack  Raggies  shouting  comic  songs,  and 
performing  feats  of  strength;  and  was  greeted 
by  a  chorus  of  mingled  remonstrance  at  his 
desertion,  and  joy  at  his  reappearance.  And 
falling  in  with  the  humour  of  the  evening,  was 
soon  as  great  a  boy  as  all  the  rest;  and  at  ten 
o'clock  was  chaired  round  the  quadrangle,  on 
one  of  the  hall  benches,  borne  aloft  by  the  eleven. 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  HI 

shouting  in  chorus,  "  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fel- 
low," while  old  Thomas  in  a  melting  mood,  and 
the  other  school-house  servants,  stood  looking 
on. 

And  the  next  morning  after  breakfast  he 
squared  up  all  the  cricketing  accounts,  went 
round  to  his  tradesmen  and  other  acquaintance, 
and  said  his  hearty  good-byes ;  and  by  twelve 
o'clock  was  in  the  train,  and  away  for  London, 
no  longer  a  school-boy,  and  divided  in  his 
thoughts  between  hero-worship,  honest  regrets 
over  the  long  stage  of  his  life  which  was  now 
slipping  out  of  sight  behind  him,  and  hopes 
and  resolves  for  the  next  stage,  upon  which  he 
was  entering  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  young 
traveller. 


CHAPTER  YIIL 

FINIS. 

"Strauge  friend,  past,  present,  and  to  be; 
Loved  deeplier,  darklier  understood; 
Behold,  I  dream  a  dream  of  good, 
And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee." 

Tennyson. 

In  tlie  summer  of  1842,  our  hero  stopped 
once  again  at  the  well-known  station ;  and, 
leaving  his  bag  and  fishing-rod  with  a  porter, 
walked  slowly  and  sadly  np  towards  the  town. 
It  was  now  July.  He  had  rushed  away  from 
Oxford  the  moment  that  term  was  over,  for  a 
fishing  ramble  in  Scotland,  with  two  college 
friends,  and  had  been  for  three  weeks  living  on 
oatcake,  mutton-hams,  and  whiskey,  in  the 
wildest  parts  of  Skye.  They  had  descended  one 
sultry  evening  on  the  little  inn  at  Kyle  Ehea 
ferry,  and  while  Tom  and  another  of  the  party 
put  their  tackle  together  and  began  exploring 
the  stream  for  a  sea-trout  for  supper,  the  third 
strolled  into  the  house  to  arrange  for  their  en- 
tertainment. Presently  he  came  out  in  a  loose 
blouse  and  slippers,  a  short  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  an  old  newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  threw 
1Y2 


BROWN    AND  ARTHUR.  173 

himself  on  tlie  heathery  scrub,  which  met  the 
shingle  within  easy  hail  of  the  fishermen.  There 
he  lay,  the  picture  of  free-and-easy  loafing,  hand- 
to-mouth  young  England, "  improving  his  mind," 
as  he  shouted  to  them,  by  the  perusal  of  the 
fortnight -old  weekly  paper,  soiled  with  the 
marks  of  toddy-glasses  and  tobacco-ashes,  the 
legacy  of  the  last  traveller,  which  he  had  hunted 
out  from  the  kitchen  of  the  little  hostelrj^,  and, 
being  a  youth  of  a  communicative  turn  of  mind, 
began  imparting  the  contents  to  the  fisherman 
as  he  went  on. 

"  What  a  bother  they  are  making  about  these 
wretched  corn  laws;  here's  three  or  four  col- 
umns full  of  nothing  but  sliding  scales  and 
fixed  duties.  Hang  this  tobacco,  it's  always 
going  out!  Ah,  here's  something  better — a 
splendid  match  between  Kent  and  England, 
Brown  Kent  winning  by  three  wickets.  Fe]ix 
fifty-six  runs  without  a  chance,  and  not  out!" 

Tom,  intent  on  a  fish  which  had  risen  at  him 
twice,  answered  only  with  a  grunt, 

"Any  thing  about  the  Goodwood?"  called  out 
the  third  man. 

"Kory-o-more  drawn.  Butterfly  colt  amiss," 
shouted  the  student. 


174  BROWN    AND   ARTHUR. 

"Just  my  luck,"  grumbled  the  inquirer,  jerk- 
ing liis  flies  olT  the  water,  and  throwing  again 
with  a  heavy,  sullen  splash,  and  frightening 
Tom's  fish. 

*'  I  say,  can't  you  throw  lighter  over  there  ? 
We  ain't  fishing  for  grampuses,"  shouted  Tom 
across  the  stream. 

"Hullo,  Brown!  here's  something  for  you," 
called  out  the  reading  man  next  moment.  "Why, 
your  old  master,  Arnold  of  Rugby,  is  dead." 

Tom's  hand  stopped  half-way  in  his  cast,  and 
his  line  and  flies  went  all  tangling  round  and 
round  his  rod;  you  might  have  knocked  him 
over  with  a  feather.  Neither  of  his  companions 
took  any  notice  of  him  luckily;  and,  with  a 
violent  effort,  he  set  to  work  mechanically  to 
disentangle  his  line.  He  felt  completely  carried 
off  his  moral  and  intellectual  legs,  as  if  he  had 
lost  his  standing-point  in  the  invisible  world. 
Besides  which,  the  deep-loving  loyalty  which 
he  felt  for  his  old  leader  made  the  shock  in- 
tensely painful.  It  was  the  first  great  wrench 
of  his  life,  the  first  gap  which  the  angel  Death 
had  made  in  his  circle,  and  he  felt  numbed,  and 
beaten-down,  and  spiritless.  Well,  well !  I  be- 
lieve it  was  good  for  him  and  for  many  others 


BROWN    AND   ARTHUR.  1T«^ 

in  like  case ;  who  had  to  learn  by  that  loss,  that 
.the  soul  of  man  cannot  stand  or  lean  upon  any 
human  prop,  however  strong,  and  wise,  and 
good;  but  that  He  upon  whom  alone  it  can 
stand  and  lean  will  knock  away  all  such  props 
in  His  own  wise  and  merciful  way,  until  there  is 
no  ground  or  stay  left  but  Himself,  the  Kock  of 
Ages,  upon  whom  alone  a  sure  foundation  for 
every  soul  of  man  is  laid. 

As  he  wearily  laboured  at  his  line,  the  thought 
struck  him,  "It  may  all  be  false,  a  mere  newspaper 
lie,"  and  he  strode  up  to  the  recumbent  smoker. 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  paper,"  said  he. 

''  Nothing  else  in  it,"  answered  the  other,  hand- 
ing it  up  to  him  listlessly. — Hullo  Brown  1  what's 
the  matter,  old  fellow — ain't  you  well  ?" 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  said  Tom,  turning  over  the 
leaves,  his  hands  trembling,  and  his  eyes  swim- 
ming, so  that  he  could  not  read. 

"  What  ?  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  "  said  his 
friend,  jumping  up  and  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"  That — about  Arnold,"  said  Tom. 

''Oh  here,"  said  the  other,  putting  his  finger 
on  the  paragraph.  Tom  read,  it  over  and  over 
again;  there  could  be  no  mistake  of  identity, 
though  the  account  was  short  enough. 


ITG  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  lie  at  last,  dropping  tlio 
paper,  ''I  shall  go  for  a  walkf-aon't  you  and 
Herbert  wait  supper  for  me."  And  away  he 
strode,  up  over  the  moor  at  the  back  of  tlie 
house,  to  be  alone,  and  master  his  grief  if  possi- 
ble. 

His  friend  looked  after  him,  sympathizing  and 
wondering,  and  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his 
pipe,  walked  over  to  Herbert.  After  a  short 
parley  they  walked  together  up  to  the  house. 

*'  I'm  afraid  that  confounded  newspaper  has 
spoiled  Brown's  fun  for  this  trip." 

"  How  odd  that  he  should  be  so  fond  of  his 
old  master,"  said  Herbert.  Yet  they  also  were 
both  public-school  men. 

The  two,  however,  notwithstanding  Tom's  pro- 
hibition, waited  supper  for  him,  and  had  every- 
thing ready  when  he  came  back  some  half-an- 
hoLir  afterwards.  But  he  could  not  join  in  their 
cheerful  talk,  and  the  party  was  soon  silent,  not- 
withstanding the  efforts  of  all  three.  One  thing 
only  had  Tom  resolved,  and  that  was  that  he 
couldn't  stay  in  Scotland  any  longer ;  he  felt  an 
irresistible  longing  to  get  to  Kugby,  and  then 
home,  and  soon  broke  it  to  the  others,  who  had 
too  much  tact  to  oppose. 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  lit 

So  by  daylight  the  next  morning  he  was 
marching  thro  ^ii  Rosshire,  and  in  the  evening 
hit  the  Caledonian  canal,  took  the  next  steamer, 
and  travelled  as  fast  as  boat  and  railway  conld 
carry  him  to  the  Rugby  station. 

As  he  walked  up  to  the  town  he  felt  shy  and 
afraid  of  being  seen,  and  took  the  back  streets ; 
why,  he  didn't  know,  but  he  followed  his  instinct. 
At  the  school-gates  he  made  a  dead  pause ;  there 
was  not  a  soul  in  the  quadrangle — all  was  lonely, 
and  silent,  and  sad.  So  with  another  effort  he 
strode  through  the  quadrangle,  and  into  the 
school-house  offices. 

He  found  the  little  matron  in  her  room,  in  deep 
mourning ;  shook  her  hand,  tried  to  talk,  and 
moved  nervously  about :  she  was  evidently  think- 
ing of  the  same  subject  as  he,  but  he  couldn't  be- 
gin talking. 

"Where  shall  I  find  Thomas?"  said  he  at 
last,  getting  desperate. 

*^  In  the  servants'  hall,  I  think,  sir.  But  won't 
you  take  any  thing  ?  "  said  the  matron,  looking 
rather  disappointed. 

*'  No,  thank  you,"  said  he,  and  strode  off  again 

to  find  the  old  verger,  who  was  sitting  in  his 

little  den  as  of  old,  puzzling  over  hieroglyphics. 
8* 


i 
I 

I 


Its  BROWN   AND    ARTHUR. 

He  looked  np  tlirougli  his  spectacles,,  as  Tom 
seized  his  hand  and  wruns:  it. 

''Ah!  you've  heard  all  about  it,  sir,  I  see," 
said  he. 

Tom  nodded,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  shoe- 
board,  while  the  old  man  told  his  tale,  and  wiped 
his  spectacles,  and  fairly  flowed  over  with  quaint, 
homely,  honest  sorrow. 

By  the  time  he  had  done,  Tom  felt  much 
better. 

"  Where  is  he  buried,  Thomas  ?  "  said  he  at 
last. 

"  Under  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  sir,"  answered 
Thomas.  "  You'd  like  to  have  the  key,  I  dare 
say." 

"Thank  you,  Thomas, — yes,  I  should,  very 
much."  And  the  old  man  fumbled  among  his 
bunch,  and  then  got  up,  as  though  he  would  go 
wdth  him  ;  but  after  a  few  steps  stopped  short 
and  said,  "  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  by  yourself, 
sir?" 

Tom  nodded,  and  the  bunch  of  keys  were 
handed  to  him  with  an  injunction  to  be  sure  and 
lock  the  door  after  him,  and  bring  them  back 
before  eight  o'clock. 

He  walked  quickly  through  the  quadrangle 


BROWN    AND    ARTHUR.  1*79 

and  out  into  the  close.  The  longing  which  had 
been  upon  him  and  driven  him  thns  far^  like  the 
gad-fly  in  the  Greek  legends,  giving  him  no  rest 
in  mind  or  body,  seemed  all  of  a  sudden  not  to 
be  satisfied,  but  to  shrivel  up,  and  pall.  '*'  Why 
should  I  go  on?  It's  no  use,"  he  thought,  and 
threw  himself  at  full  length  on  the  turf,  and 
looked  vaguely  and  listlessly  at  all  the  well- 
known  objects.  There  were  a  few  of  the  town 
boys  playing  cricket,  their  wicket  pitched  on  the 
best  piece  in  the  middle  of  the  big-side  ground, 
a  sin  about  equal  to  sacrilege  in  the  eyes  of  a 
captain  of  the  eleven.  He  was  very  nearly  get- 
ting up  to  go  and  send  them  off.  "  Pshaw !  they 
won't  remember  me.  They've  more  right  there 
than  I,"  he  muttered.  And  the  thought  that  his 
sceptre  had  departed,  and  his  mark  was  wearing 
out,  came  home  to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  bit- 
terly enough.  He  was  lying  on  the  very  spot 
where  the  fights  came  off;  where  he  himself  had 
fought  six  years  ago  his  first  and  last  battle. — 
He  conjured  up  the  scene  till  he  could  almost 
hear  the  shouts  of  the  ring,  and  East's  whisper 
in  his  ear ;  and  looking  across  the  close  to  the 
Doctor's  private  door,  half  expected  to  see  it 
open,    and   the   tall    figure   in   cap   and    gown 


I 


180  BROWN   AND   ARTHUR. 

come  striding  under  the  elm-trees  towards  him. 

No,  no  !  that  sight  could  never  be  seen  again. 
There  was  no  flag  flying  on  the  round  tower ; 
the  school -house  windows  were  all  shuttered  up  ; 
and  when  the  flag  went  up  again,  and  the  shut- 
ters came  down,  it  would  be  to  welcome  a  stran- 
ger. All  that  was  left  on  earth  of  him  whom  he 
had  honoured,  was  lying  cold  and  still  under  the 
chapel  floor.  He  would  go  in  and  see  the  place 
once  more,  and  then  leave  it  once  for  all.  New 
men  and  new  methods  might  do  for  other  people; 
let  those  who  would  worship  the  rising  star,  he 
at  least  would  be  faithful  to  the  sun  which  had 
set.  And  so  he  got  up,  and  walked  to  the  chapel 
door  and  imlocked  it,  fancying  himself  the  only 
mourner  in  all  the  broad  land,  and  feeding  on  his 
own  selfish  sorrow. 

He  passed  through  the  vestibule,  and  then 
paused  for  a  moment  to  glance  over  the  empty 
benches.  His  heart  was  still  proud  and  high; 
and  he  walked  up  to  the  seat  which  he  had  last 
occupied  as  a  sixth-form  boy,  and  sat  himself 
down  there  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

And,  truth  to  tell,  they  needed  collecting  and 
settling  in  order  not  a  little.  The  memories  of 
eight  years  were  all  dancing  through  his  brain, 


BROWN   AND    ARTHUR.  181 

m 

and  carrying  him  about  whither  they  would ; 
while  beneath  them  all,  his  heart  was  throbbing 
with  the  dull  sense  of  a  loss  that  could  never  be 
made  up  to  him.  The  rays  of  the  evening  sun 
came  solemnly  through  the  painted  windows 
above  his  head  and  fell  in  gorgeous  colours  on  the 
opposite  wall,  and  the  perfect  stillness  soothed 
his  spirit  by  little  and  little.  And  he  turned  to 
the  pulpit,  and  looked  at  it,  and  then  leaning 
forward,  with  his  head  on  his  hands,  groaned 
aloud. — '  If  he  could  only  have  seen  the  Doctor 
again  for  one  five  minutes,  to  have  told  him  all 
that  was  in  his  heart,  what  he  owed  to  him,  how 
he  loved  and  reverenced  him,  and  would,  by 
God's  help,  follow  his  steps  in  life  and  death,  he 
could  hwve  borne  it  all  without  a  murmur.  But 
that  he  should  have  gone  away  for  ever  without 

knowing  it  all,  was  too  much  to  bear.' "  But 

am  I  sure  that  he  does  not  know  it  all  ?  " — the 
thought  made  him  start — "  May  he  not  even 
now  be  near  me,  in  this  very  chapel  ?  If  he  be, 
am  I  sorrowing  as  he  would  have  me  sorrow — 
as  I  shall  wish  to  have  sorrowed  when  I  shall 
meet  him  again  ?  " 

He  raised  himself  up  and  looked  round  ;  and 
after  a  minute  rose  and  walked  humbly  down 


182  BROAVN   AND   ARTHUR. 

to  the  loAvcst  bench,  and  sat  down  on  the  very 
seat  which  he  had  occupied  on  his  first  Sunday 
at  Eugby.  And  then  the  old  memories  rushed 
back  again,  but  softened  and  subdued,  and  sooth- 
ing him  as  he  let  himself  be  carried  away  by 
them.  And  he  looked  up  at  the  great  painted 
window  above  the  altar,  and  remembered  how, 
when  a  little  boy,  he  used  to  try  not  to  look 
through  it  at  the  elm-trees  and  the  rooks,  before 
the  painted  glass  came — and  the  subscription 
for  the  painted  glass,  and  the  letter  he  wrote 
home  for  money  to  give  to  it.  And  there,  down 
below,  was  the  very  name  of  the  boy  who  sat 
on  his  right  hand  on  that  first  day,  scratched 
rudely  in  the  oak  pannelling. 

And  then  came  the  thought  of  all  his  old 
school-fellows;  and  form  after  form  of  boys, 
nobler,  and  braver,  and  purer  than  he,  rose  up 
and  seemed  to  rebuke  him.  Could  he  not  think 
of  them,  and  what  they  had  felt  and  were  feeling ; 
they  who  had  honoured  and  loved  from  the  first, 
the  man  whom  he  had  taken  years  to  know  and 
love  ?  Could  he  not  think  of  those  yet  dearer  to 
him  who  was  gone,  who  bore  his  name  and  shar- 
ed his  blood,  and  were  now  without  a  husband 
or  a  father  ?  Then  the  grief  which  he  began  to 


BROWN   AND   ARTHUR.  183 

share  with  others  became  gentle  and  holy,  and 
he  rose  up  once  more,  and  walked  up  the  steps 
to  the  altar ;  and  while  the  tears  flowed  freely 
down  his  cheeks,  knelt  down  humbly  and  hope- 
fully, to  lay  down  there  his  share  of  a  burden 
which  had  proved  itself  too  heavy  for  him  to 
bear  in  his  own  strength. 

Here  let  us  leave  him — where  better  could  wo 
leave  him,  than  at  the  altar,  before  which  he  had 
first  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  glory  of  his  birth- 
right, and  felt  the  drawing  of  the  bond  which 
links  all  living  souls  together  in  one  brotherhood 
— at  the  grave  beneath  the  altar  of  him  who  had 
opened  his  eyes  to  see  that  glory,  and  softened 
his  heart  till  it  could  feel  that  bond. 

And  let  us  not  be  hard  on  him,  if  at  that 
moment  his  soul  is  fuller  of  the  tomb  and  him 
who  lies  there,  than  of  the  altar  and  Him  of 
whom  it  speaks.  Such  stages  have  to  be  gone 
through,  I  believe,  by  all  young  and  brave  souls, 
who  must  win  their  way  through  hero-worship, 
to  the  worship  of  Him  who  is  the  King  and  Lord 
of  heroes.  For  it  is  only  through  our  mysterious 
human  relationships,  through  the  love  and  ten- 
derness and  purity  of  mothers,  and  sisters,  and 
wives, — through  the  strength  and  courage  and 


184  "^^  BROWN    AND    ARTHUR. 

wisdom  of  fathers,  and  brotliers,  and  tcacliers, 
that  we  can  come  to  the  knowledge  of  Him,  in 
whom  alone  the  love,  and  the  tenderness,  and 
the  pm'ity,  and  the  strength,  and  the  courage, 
and  the  wisdom  of  all  these  dwell  forever  and 
ever  in  perfect  fulness. 


THE  END. 


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